


And you sang: Sail to me, let me enfold you

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bad Parenting, Bottom Jaime Lannister, Cheating, Dom Robb Stark, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, Fucked Up, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inappropriate Behavior, Inappropriate Humor, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Sex Work, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Brienne of Tarth, Top Robb Stark, Unethical Medicine, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Veterans, unethical behavior, very fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 66,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Theon is a vet who developed PTSD, Robb is his therapist who is still trying to accept his homosexuality in very homophobic times. And neither of them is a well-functioning human being.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a bit FUCKED UP. Like I think it's potentially disturbing: there is everything people shouldn't do.  
> So for this one as usual very thanks to my wife because she accepts my paranoia 24/7. <3  
> Also an immense thank you and wink wink to janie_tangerine who, poor soul, helped me a lot with the references, the language and the time period stuff. She's like super well-read and educated on the subject and she gave me so many points. Also she encouraged me to put some secondary characters for once :'D  
> The title comes from Song to the Siren by Tim Buckley, but admittedly the starting point was Layla by Eric Clapton.

**And you sang: Sail to me, let me enfold you**

 

* * *

 

 

_Let's make the best of the situation,_

_before I finally go insane._

_Please, don't say we'll never find a way_

_and tell me all my love's in vain._

_\- Layla, Eric Clapton_

 

* * *

 

 

1\. THEON

 

“Why don't we start from the beginning?”

Theon let out a mocking chuckle. He ran his tongue on his chapped lips, biting them.

“The start of what? - a snort – The downfall?”

The man gave him a sympathetic smile, which Theon loathed.

It was a smile people gave him often, fake as can be, plastic and wax on a skeleton of perfect pristine mental sanity _it's easy isn't it when you've never been there you fucking son of a bitch?_ that he could not bring himself to stand. He turned to the other side of the study, staring at a big painting, one of those contemporary art half-deformed things _they remind you of the mind, don't you? You like to take pride in knowing you're complicated and fucked up, maybe because you're not that much, you take pride in knowing convolutions and knots in a road otherwise boring. But to me that shit is not deformed enough that I can't see still a man in there, with acid or petroleum dropped on him, with a plane crashing on his poor sleek bones. Or maybe they don't even look like that but they sound like that, when you hear them scream from the other side of the fucking wall, please stop please stop let us go let us_ –

“What you feel like telling me the most.”

_Nothing_.

He shook, realizing only then he was holding a breath, as he let it go and his chest hurt. His eyes stared , as if nailed, to the painting still, but he could feel the drum of his heartbeat.

_Is this one still alive?_

_Poke him, if he's he'll scream._

His leg pulsed, his jaw clenched. He dug his fingers in the leather sofa. _A whistle, the whistle. A laugh. I told you he would have screamed._

“Theon?”, the voice again, calling him for nothing.

_Let me go, let me be, can't I be adrift awhile? When I am I don't have to see how people look at me … it's a bliss to ever have returned from that hell._

A sigh, the sound of him jotting something down on a piece of paper.

Doctors were all like that: _they want their symptoms to write, oh look it match the parameters so well, what a joy, the diagnostic traits are all there,_ and this new one was no different. He was younger than the last one, granted, maybe even a couple years younger than Theon himself – he sure looked so – with big baby eyes, drawn in an azure so raw it looked fake. It hurt to look at them.

Technicolor pupils. _I see your face now at the end of the day, purple shadows dancing in your eyes. Technicolor dreams are all I see_ …

He breathed in, tried to, but it got twisted in his lungs and came out as a cough.

“...yes? - he made the effot to try to speak softly and low, while his ears rung and whistled open and he thought blood was coming out of them and _no, not again, not the ants –_ he felt puke pooling in his mouth, sour with his starving, he couldn't bring himself to eat in days and it was sour and thick saliva, a paste the color of seafoam, _the sea, the sea... Theon, don't run, baby, you will trip_ – What do you need to know?”

The voice turned soft.

“Are you here with me, right now?”

“Bitch, I'd like to know too.”

Theon stared at the ceiling, stubbornly, contemplating the way the lights came through the window in oval droplets and cuts. It was only as he overheard a “I'm sorry”, that he realized.

“...did I say that out loud?”

“You did. - the doctor's voice sounded kind then, but Theon still couldn't look at him – And it was a good call.”

“I was rude. - Theon's eyelids fluttered, he still looked at the droplets of light on the ceiling, never melting one in the other, always separated, isolated – I know you're here to help me.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Know. - he said, his voice quite frank – I mean, for real, not just theoretically and in your head.”

“My head is a mess. - Theon chuckled – I wouldn't trust it to be rational.”

The corners of Theon's mouth twitched up, softly, tiredly.

Doctor Stark moved from his chair and squatted next to him on the sofa, as near as he could without seeming unprofessional.

“I want to help, Theon.”

Theon breathed in, resting with his mouth open for a long moment, before closing it and licking his lips.

He turned to the man, slowly. He was stupidly pretty.

Like he had been, once.

Like all those people who never had their lives peed on by a fucking torture camp in the butthole of Vietnam.

His eyelids fluttered, slowly, while the most tired and doubtful skepticism shone in his glance.

“Why?”

Doctor Stark frowned. Oh, poor boy, already confused by one question.

“Why wouldn't I?”, he asked back.

And Theon was not sure what to answer to that. Why would anyone do something for someone else? But this guy just plainly served him the fact he needed a reason not to.

_Well, fuck you, if you're that pure still. Then you really can't see through me at all._

A bitter chuckle, “How much is my sister paying you?”

He frowned, confused.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Asha.”

The doctor's lips trembled, and he looked hurt somehow, which Theon found laughable. The last two doctors he had gone to barely had any expression, both when they diagnosed him and when they dropped him to someone else.

But, instead of replying to him, the doctor breathed in, calmly.

“What were you watching before?”

“The sun. - Theon shook his head, realizing how stupid he sounded – The light, filtering through the.... the thing.”

Robb looked up to it. He smiled.

“My sister used to pretend those were magical, you know? - he said, murmuring softly, – She'd lay on bed, her head reclined, and put her legs up, like a candle, and she looked at how the droplets fell on her legs. – he smiled and Theon wondered if that was a lie to convince him to speak – She also liked to wrap the thin sheet around herself, at night, and pretend she had a ballgown and halfdanced into it while lying on the bed.”

Theon let out a snort, “She's a funny one.”

Robb smiled, wide but tense and his smile died out soon. His eyes got lucid. But he said nothing and Theon knew it was stupid to ask.

It was not a real intimacy, after all.

Not closeness.

It was just to let Theon open and speak up about ants and bamboo and his fingers.

Maybe those were the most interesting parts about him – the crazy, rotten ones – maybe all he didn't have or lost away was what made him more than trash on the corner of an avenue.

“My sister is older than me. - he let out – I have two, _had_ , two brothers too.”

“What happened to them?”

Theon tried to look away without moving his head. He didn't want to turn, he was not sure he could, but his eyes escaped, his glance run to the window, the walls, something stung and felt heavy in his eyes.

“Maron didn't come back. - his voice sounded thin and scratched like vinyl caressed by sandpaper – Rod … I'm not sure I remember.”

“Was he with you?”

“He... - _the mud, the mud to the nose, is it thick enough, the mud, the mud that swallows up and the guts half hanging from the engine of the plane and the way he twitched like a chicken after you cut his head but his head was still on and his eyes open and he stared there, at his own wet intestines, and_ – ; he panted, trembled – He was.”

The doctor's voice came soothing like honey on a wound.

“But it's confused now, right? What actually happened and what it felt like?”

Theon just nodded, weakly.

_Violent, violets, violers, violous, celious, cholent, choline, chlorine._

“What are you thinking about now?”

“Words.”

“Words? - he smiled but didn't seem to laugh – Do you like words?”

“Better than images. - Theon admitted. _They are less hard, less there, less visible, they don't get branded on your eye and mind and you can never unsee them, no words you have to thin to combine them, to see them and if you don't turn them into images they remain just words, just sound, they don't haunt you like guts pending from an airplane –_ I liked to read the dictionary as a kid.”

“Really?”

There was a weird thrill in doctor Stark's voice.

He was soothing and motherly, and yet, he didn't seem to be patronizing him.

Theon's shoulders relaxed slowly and he nodded.

“Do you feel like a bit of word association?”

“Do you really do that?”

“Ah-a. - he smiled and it was sweet and it nauseated him – I promise it helps.”

“Fine then.”

Doctor Stark was still squatting next to the sofa, with his little notebook in his hands, and it made quite the comical piece. He was a bit too big for his suit, he had big arms, wide shoulders, and he was all wrapped and packed in that small little suit, with patches on his elbows, like one of those poetry college professors, and he had tiny thin glasses on. It looked almost awkward.

“You'd look better in turtlenecks than shirts.”, he mumbled.

He smiled, “I prefer them too, but...”

“But?”, Theon blinked, genuinely curious about something since months.

The doctor saw the little spark and his lips opened to reply. And then closed again.

“We... let's do the association, Theon, okay? We can discuss turtlenecks later.”

_We won't._

Theon sighed, “Hit me then.”

The doctor frowned.

“What? - Theon raised an eyebrow – Just because I hallucinate being tortured is not like I can't use figures of speech.”

“Sorry.”, the doctor fumbled. But he smiled, signing it on the notebook. A genuine smile.

“Hm... let's start with something easy. Sun.”

_Annoying._ “Star.”

“Day?”

_Time stopped to feel real a while ago. Stretched._ “Tuesday.”

“Month?”

“February.”

“Cold?”

_Dad_. “Snow.”

The doctor raised the eyes from his notebook, like he knew. But he didn't say anything.

“White?”

_Bones. Sticking out from a muddy fleshy gummy bloody gutted corpse._ “Powdered sugar.”

“As in cocaine?”

“As in sugar. - Theon raised an eyebrow – Do I look like I have money to throw away in drugs?”

The doctor gave him an half-smile that Theon was not sure how to take.

“You're quite funny. - he commented, then, trying not to smile, but still doing it, professionalism melting off his face – You must have been a lot also before.”

“Before the war?”

“Is there something else as big to stop you from being like that?”, he asked, now his hand again on the blue pen.

_Life? Growing up? My dad?_

_What's funny? Was I? Or was it a mask? I'm not sure anymore which one was me at all._

_Shy kid, cocky teen, desperate twentythree and here I am at a spit to adult age and I just feel like the leftover of all the fuck that hit me on the road._

“No, not really.”

He breathed in.

He glanced again at the painting, dripping sick yellow and fragile bluish white, scratched in never enough dark to be black gray. Strong traces, as if someone's mind came undone painting and he resorted to hands to trace.

“What is it?”, Theon asked, gulping.

“The painting? - doctor Stark asked while writing again on his notes – It's a De Kooning, Woman III, I think.”

“And do you like it?”

A chuckle that meant he couldn't be honest.

“It's not my usual taste, I'd say.”

_You hate it, don't you?_

A chuckle.

The doctor swallowed, “You know, right... why you're here?”

“Do I look stupid?”

“Maybe I want you to tell me your point of view.”

Theon's eyes fluttered, he tried to focus on something else, but they got all watery and useless.

“Because she hopes you can fix me.”

“That's not how therapy works... - he said, softly – I'm here to make you live happy and healthy, it doesn't mean you're broken.”

_Aren't I? Try to tell me I'm not._

A scoff, “Good luck with that.”

Doctor Stark frowned, “Do you not think we can reach that goal?”

_I know we can't._

He could feel himself licking his lips, he could almost taste it back. The taste they had.

But now it was gone and it mattered little whether his mouth was sinking in a soft slick cunt or open and welcoming a heavy cock. It mattered so little it felt almost comical.

And thinking that seemed so essential once.

_You're a fucking fag, you fucking brownie cocksucker... out of my house before I stick a broom up that disgusting ass o' yours. Out. Dad, dad, list – Out. Dad, Theon didn't – O.U.T. Balon, please, Balon …_

_You would like it, don't you, if I touched you that way? No, no, I wouldn't. Are you sure? But you like men, don't you? You would love a cock up your tight sweet hole. No._

“Theon?”

_Three, four, five – count with me, Theon, c'mon, count with – Please, stop, please._

“Theon?”

_Oh, look, you're hard... did you think about your dad?_

Theon twitched, sat up and threw up. It came out of him mouth almost at once, mostly transparent, with bloody almost black strings of red wine, the only thing he had in the stomach, and a deep stench of gastric acid. His eyes were lost, staring in the void, petrified in fear.

His breath was so quick, so shallow, it sounded like wind scratching a window.

He all looked made of glass and about to collapse.

He was trembling still, when doctor Stark moved closer to him, Kleenex in his hands and started rubbing his jeans clean. Only when his hand was cleaning Theon's thigh, he seemed to come back to himself – and with the deep strangled sound of one emerging from apnea, Theon turned to him.

He mouthed something, but still looked terrified.

Doctor Star threw the tissue in the trashcan and smiled, “It's clean now...”

Theon nodded, slowly, then his lips quivered, twitched, a smirk came and died in seconds on his mouth.

“What were you thinking about, Theon?”, he asked, gently, once again, patient as if it was the first moment they met and Theon didn't tire him yet.

_Ramsay._

_You won't tell anyone about me, Theon, will you? They won't believe you anyway._

“My... - his eyelids twitched, the earth was twisting and making him dizzy – My brother died in front of me.”

He seemed to look at him differently, then.

His bottom lip quivered. His upper twitched.

“I'm sorry. - his voice was hoarse, as if his throath hurt and only then he shook his head and murmured – How...”

“...do I feel about that? - Theon scoffed, smirked, but his glance was soft, _I know you have to be professional and can't say much more, don't worry, I am the pathetic one_ – Like crap.”

_Guts guts spilling, guts like ribbons, covered in thick red. Ribbons on Christmas presents, guts wrapped all around it. Open it, unravel your brother's intestine to open the parcel. Oh, whoa, it's a flaying knife and bamboo and wire._

_Merry Christmas. Hope you didn't need your pinky, boo._

“The fact it happened in front of you doesn't make it your fault, though, you know that, right?”

Theon's lips curled slightly in an uneven, tilted smirk.

“No, but the fact I wish that it was me kinda makes me a piece of shit.”

The doctor frowned, “Do you wish you died or that he lived?”

“That I died.”

“But you didn't. - he said, softly, too soflty for a doctor – You kept living. You survived.”

Theon shook his head, _dad would have wanted to see him, not me, coming back_ .

His tongue licked his lips, they felt so dry.

“Surviving those we love is not always easy. - he murmured – Sometimes, I think, it takes more courage than dying.”

“It's not about that.”

“Then?”

Theon glanced at his hands, as they trembled.

He remembered when he feared losing them. The hook, passing through his flesh, the machete taking off the ring finger. His screamed so loud he thought his lungs would burn.p

But they didn't.

He returned to breathe.

And returned to live. And he had to and he hated it.

_Ramsay._

“He wouldn't have... become like me.”

“Like you? How?”

_Empty. Broken. Undone. Mauled. Flawed. Shell._

“Sick.”, he replied, diplomatically.

Doctor Stark then put his hand on Theon's. Gently. Ever so softly.

And Theon's hand stopped trembling for a while.

“Many many people, no matter how strong or how brave, returned like you, if not even worse, Theon. - a thin smile, and Theon's glance fell on his lips, unwillingly – You are searching for help, instead of drowning your problems in substances, this is already courageous.”

_What a crock of lies._

“You're doing a lot, Theon.”

_A voice so soft it feels like silk, but my skin is all burnt and I can't perceive you on my skin. I'm all crooked and bubbled and wrong. I'm carbonized all up to the bone. Can't you see I can't feel?_

“Thanks.”

A small shake of the head and a scoff.

_Did I disappoint you yet?_

“It's fine if you don't believe me yet. - he winked – I'll make you change your mind.”

_Oh?_

“And then you'll spank me and make me admit I was wrong?”

The doctor stiffened, blinked. It seemed to Theon like his spine shook and the man felt exposed, naked.

Theon wondered if he was too out of line. He wanted to sound flirty but not... for real. Especially given how bad he looked.

Doctor Stark put his glass up the bridge of his nose, nervously.

“I hope you will just say yourself you're surprised of your progresses.”, he said, white-smiled and white-faced.

_Oh_.

It hurt a bit to know, he may have liked him, once, in another life.

 

2\. ROBB

 

The second time was the weirdest, they told him.

First off, you don't know if the client is going to show up themselves or not. And whether they are willing to work with you or not, that's another hard pick.

Robb knew he probably wouldn't have come.

But somehow it hurt him a bit, unexplainably. He was fond of that client.

He was sort of funny.

Robb stayed at the desk and filled out some papers for the whole first half an hour, from time to time moving his eyes to look at the clock, almost hopeful. How silly of him.

_Did I dream you dreamed about me?_

His handwriting got tilted a bit, he missed lines, absent-mindedly thinking about things he was not supposed to think about. Right? _Were you here when I was forced out?_

_Now my foolish boat is leaning, broken lovelorn on your rocks._

There was something missing and his hands trembled and he found himself all alone.

_Jeyne, think of Jeyne. Think of Jeyne._

And all that came to his mind was the still expression of the wedding photos.

_Think of Jeyne._

But as he tried to imagine her move, her lips turned into someone else's and so her jaw, and her hair turned darker and – _you really can't be honest, can you?_

Theon entered, panting heavily.

His throat sounded scratched like vinyl, his eyes were blown and were barely focusing on reality.

Robb stood up and moved closer, slowly.

“I'm late.”, Theon almost whispered.

“It's fine. - Robb lied, feeling his chest full just by him arriving – We have all the time you want.”

Theon looked around, his breath heavy.

Robb blinked slowly. “Sounds?”

A nod.

“Sit.” , he said, calmly.

Theon obeyed, almost falling down on the sofa, as if his legs gave up on him, just then, just at the edge of the sofa, and he let out a breath that left him all deflated. Robb handed him a glass of water.

“Your lips are dry. - he murmured – When did you last drink?”

“I was running here. - Theon explained, words coming out slowly – I was.”

“You couldn't take the underground?”

“Its sound makes me puke.”

“Why?”

Theon's eyes were sitll focusing on the empty space, blown in fear.

“It feels like it cuts through my flesh, pierces my gum. My teeth hurt and then I want to puke.”

Robb's hand caressed his wrist gently, “But it doesn't, you know that, right?”

“I know but I feel it all the same.”

Robb sat next to him instead of doing it on his own armchair.

He tried to look at Theon, although not in the eyes. He looked at his maimed fingers and his trembling shoulders.

_God, I shouldn't look at you like this._

_Think about Jeyne._

_He needs you. He is a patient. You can't do this, Robb._

“When I was... before the war. - Theon licked his lips – When I was sad, I used to fuck the pain away.”

_Oh..._

Robb tried hard, and failed, not picturing it. Theon desperately searching for human touch, animal warmth, in the night, bending himself. _He didn't say he's into men._

_Stop thinking about it._

_He is a client._

_Sucking a cock, jerking one in his hands, taking one in and dancing over it, riding them both to completion, head thrown back, moans higher than the sky. He is a client._

_Think about Jeyne._

“Hm.”

“Now I can't. - he chuckled - Not when I look like this.”

_Like this? Where do you look ugly exactly? You damn idiot._

“They would find me pathetic or weird. - Theon shrugged – So now, if I feel bad, I don't know what to do.”

Robb tried to reply calmly, “This is a judgment you're placing here. - he explained – You should avoid your old coping mechanism because of its intrinsic inability to make you happier, not because you feel too inadequate for it.”

“I can't be wanted.”

_You are._

_But it matters not to you how rotten and deep you destroy the base of the mountain of my life, how deep you undermine my stability._

“Are you confident that's the issue and not rather you don't want yourself?”

“Who would want to be himself?”, Theon snorted.

And Robb's eyes stung.

_Who, really._

_Things I shouldn't want pool in my stomach and I can't undrink the taste of the you I dreamt of._

_And the man I'm not torments me._

“Do you also see the war?”

“It's mostly in the sounds. - Theon whispered, licking his dry lips – The world around, as ...like the seeable things... they just slow down, pale up, grey up, even, they don't disappear, but seem distant. The sound instead. - he swallowed – Those drum in my ear all the time.”

“Are they indistinct sounds or?”

“Also voices.”

“Like...people? In Vietnamese?”

“... he is talking to me.”

“Who?”

“He.”

“Who?”

Theon stiffened, “I don't want to talk about it.”

_Who torments your mind where I can't go?_

_Open up. I'll break the door, if you keep it closed. No, I can't. I have to respect._

_You're my client. You're a human being._

_I hate how it burns how much I can't reach you._

_Think of Jeyne._

Robb moved closer, “Please. - he murmured – Do.”

“I don't. - Theon flipped, moving back, then panted and slowed and stared again at Robb, terrified and in need of a hold altogether – Must I?”

Robb moved away.

“No. No, of course no. - he breathed low – I... just meant, please, if you feel like it later, do.”

Theon's lips trembled.

Their eyes locked.

“You... are going to numb me up with pills?”

Robb frowned, “I won't give you medicines unless it's strictly necessary. - his hands went on Theon's hands and he grasped them tight – And, I promise, I won't give you anything that would numb you. I just want you to elaborate and work lucidly on what happened.”

He tried to smile, but his eyes burnt and it was hard to keep a straight face.

Theon's glance fell on the hands.

“...can you really be this close?”

“Not if it bothers you. - Robb admitted – And I shouldn't. I , but you seemed to need contact.”

Theon raised ane yebrow and let out a small chuckle.

His eyes went on Robb's swollen lips. A smug little smirk rose on Theon's lips.

“I'm not stupid.”

“I didn't say you are.”

“You're playing coy.”

Robb swallowed, moving away, breaking the glance and hoping that would be enough.

“I'm not playing anything. - Robb shut him up, forcing himself to sound harsh, while a part of his chest hurt melting away – I do not appreciate your insinuation.”

Theon snorted, “I didn't insinuate anything. - he took a cigarette and lit it up – But your reaction is telling.”

“I'm not the one to be analyzed here.”

“How angry you get. - Theon raised an eyebrow – Did I put my foot on a naked nerve?”

“I'm married.”

He felt like he lied, even if he didn't.

It was weird, being honest and feeling like a liar.

Theon went pale.

“I'm mortified, I assumed...”

Robb felt the pang of guilt hitting his throat, “It's fine, Theon. - he murmured – You place your worth into how sexually interesting you are to someone.” _I'm a piece of shit and a jerk. If he ever finds out I'm actually into him. Oh but he won't. So. He is a client. He is so sad. I want to kiss him. What will his lips taste like? Think about Jeyne._ “You need to realize you're valuable as a human being not just as a sexual thing.”

Theon smiled, somehow both sad and relieved.

“Thank you...”

“Now... talk to me about this panic attack.”

 

3\. ASHA

 

He didn't sleep that week.

He kept waking up, screaming in the middle of the night, so hard and rought hat she feared his lungs might dry collapse ad get spit out. He has eyes injected with blood and a shattered breath.

He would jump sitting on his sofabed and shout and cry out.

_No, don't touch me, stop, no. Ramsay. Reek. Reek. No. No._

A constellation of horrors.

Asha stared at her coffee and sipped it slowly, tasting the bitterest black on her lips and praying for the claws of it all to leave her chest alone.

She just wanted her brother back. One of them, at least, she was supposed to be allowed to keep.

One.

At least her small baby.

She stared at her partner and sighed.

“You know, my life sucks, so it would be great if at least you had something funny to tell me.”

Her colleague gave her a side-eye, “I'm afraid my social life is not animated enough. I got mistaken for a butch lesbian. Again.”

Asha frowned, “You're straighter than a lamplight.”

“I know. - she sighed – I would also like men to know.”

“It's a haircut thing, maybe.”, Asha mumbled.

“I think it's a six feet tall police officer with huge shoulders and a strong personality thing.”

Asha sighed, “If at least you were lesbian, we could discuss boobs together. We would have something nice to talk about when we patrol the sex workers drive.”

Brienne rolled her eyes.

Asha smirked, “...so... you called him?”

“Who?”  
“The bartender? - she asked, in a smug look – He seems to like you.”

Brienne shrugged her shoulders, as to say that no, that was not an option. People liking her.

Not that way, at least.

“You need an injection of self-esteem. - Asha complained, in a yawn – And the guts to call him.”

Brienne shook her head and looked beyond Asha.

“... when are you going to take your own advice, then?”, she glanced and then tilted her head pointing out of the car window.

Asha groaned, “Yeah, let me try to seduce a sex worker into an illegal same sex relationship.”

Brienne looked sad. She still had problems to accept and digest unfair laws after years.

Asha loved her a bit for that.

“One day, when I'm not going to risk my career, I'm going to ask Jeyne out. - she promised, more to herself than to Brienne – But it wouldn't even be the moment right now.”

“Is your brother getting better?”

“I'm not sure. - she admitted – He has more nightmares, but it could be stuff is resurfacing to get out and then he will be... better?”

“Like pimple pus?”

“Like pimple pus.”

Brienne breathed in and looked on the horizon through the din dirty windows of the police car.

“Soul pus.”

Asha snorted, “Call the bartender, soul pus. He likes you.”

“He does not. - she replied – He simply thanked me for letting him go without charges after we arrested him drunk and full of cuts and blood on his face.”

“And came back at the office threee times since.”

“He was being grateful.”

“Bringing coffee and chatting with you until we had to basically kick him out.”

“He is a bit of a chatterbox on his own.”

“Ah-a.”, Asha didn't seem convinced.

“You can't say anything. - Brienne warned her – Until you invite Jeyne out for dinner.”

“In my dreams, what I eat out is her p...”

“Asha.”

“Sorry.”

“You're not sorry in the slightest. - she groaned – Now it's in my mind, sculpted, there, forever.”

“I'm glad someone will perpetually think about me giving oral. - Asha mumbled, between proud and joking, sipping her coffee, then looking outside again – God, look at her legs, they go on for miles.”

“Asha...”, Brienne warned.

“Oh oh oh oh and she's buying a stairway to heaven...”

Brienne let out a groan and a sigh and shook her head. “We need to patrol the quartier, not her legs.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“I'm driving away. - she warned, turning on the car again – Buckle your belt.”

“Ask the bartender out.”

“Again? And how would I? - she burst – Am I supposed to send him a pigeon?”

Asha grinned, “We know the bar name.”

“Oh, c'mon, that's just... so obvious.”

And it was, to any human being.

Except Jaime Lannister, who spent the time since the two officers arrived and entered into his bar being... well. He was smiling, flirting like an idiot, while making the worst jokes Asha had ever witnessed, trying so hard to tease and impress Brienne at the same time.

Asha was tempted to slam them together on a table and let them figure it out from there.

Instead, her eyes fell on a little sign on the wood counter.

“...are you looking for help?”

“Uh. - Jaime turned, finally taking away that silly expression from his face as soon as he stared at someone who was not Brienne – Yeah, want to change job?”

Asha let out a fake laugh.

“My brother could use it. He's a vet.”

Something similar to guilt shone in Jaime's eyes and Asha recognized it fairly well by then, after two dead brothers and a disabled one, and it was easy to translate into “I skipped the draft by being rich” . But she said nothing, because guilt shimmered so clear and limpid, she knew it would have changed nothing to speak.

But Jaime's serious expression lasted less than a moment.

His lips curled up again and he seemed as smug as before.

“If he has all four limbs or can walk to the tables like he used to, that's all I need. - he said, chuckling – Tell him to come here in a couple days so we discuss it.”

Asha grinned.

Brienne's lips twitched in something close to a smile.

“Thank you.”

Jaime looked at her as if she stole all his words. He swallowed and then his glance run away.

“I need help, I'm not doing her a favor, unless you consider capitalism and the exploitation of labor great and dignified.”

Brienne frowned, why did he always have to make everything sound so unserious? It flicked her wrong.

It was like he was afraid of being true.

“Anyway, thank you.”, she said, her voice returning rigid as her back, shy as she was.

Jaime then felt a pang of guilt steaming in his stomach. He started nervously rubbing a little white robe on the counter, as if to make it shine more; and he refused to look at Brienne in the eyes.

“I was thinking we could... go around.”

Brienne turned, slowly.

“Excuse me?”

Jaime still didn't look at her, but pulled out a smirk and his most teasing tone, “What, shouldn't I ask when you're on service? - he asked, rubbing the wood – Am I going to get handcuffed?”

Brienne sighed deeply, then let out a groan and looked away.

“...I take it as a no, then.”, Jaime said, with a hint of bitterness staining his cheerful overconfident mask.

Brienne's eyelids trembled, her voice seemed to vibrate in silent anger.

“It's not the type of joke I appreciate.”

“Uh, duly noted for when I will be joking about it, then. - Jaime concluded, trying to still seem careless and casual about it, while his chest was starting to clench – But I was not.”

And Brienne was not sure what was she supposed to say, at all.

Asha, instead, bit her bottom lip, with a little victorious pride smile, grabbing for herself a bottle of beer behind the counter.

 

4\. ROBB

 

He poured a glass and chugged it down with quick bitterness. It filled his mouth, like the dough of dreams that sticks to the tongue and fucks your brain for hours.

It tasted so sweet it turned bitter. It tasted so good it turned rotten on the tongue.

He raised his eyes.

“Another merry widow, please.”

The bartender stared at him, raised an eyebrow.

“You had enough, Robb. Also, we're closing.”

“Jaime, c'mon. - he let out a weak chuckle – I'm not drunk, I just... it was a bad day, okay?”

He moved away the empty glass from Robb; then gave a knowingly smile.

“This is why you need to stop. It won't make you feel better tomorrow. - a quick glance – Can you drive or do I bring you you home?”

Robb snorted.

“Would you?”, he asked, a bit too warm, not warm enough.

And Jaime breathed in before answering.

_Will we fuck on the backseat of your car again? Would you let me come in, spend between your thighs? Like we used to._

_After my dad died, after my mom fell ill, after I married Jeyne, before you fell in love with that policewoman taller than both of us?_

_Would you moan my name again, as low as Jeyne's voice can't go, and let me bury myself in your ass?_

He shook his head, as if Robb was hopeless.

“For a shrink, you do a shitty job at keeping yourself together.”, Jaime commented.

Robb shrugged.

“My car or yours?”, he asked with a tilted pout.

“No zipper dinner for you this time. - Jaime said, rather firmly for his standards – I kind of... like someone.”

“Oh. - his mouth felt sour, dry with humiliation, his cheek turned to iron – The policewoman?”

“Brienne.”

“Does she know you're ambidextrous?”

Jaime lowered his look, “No and she must not know.” .

“Not gonna tell her. - he shrugged , then his hand moved, his fingers caressing the rim of the empty glass he drank from, it was so close to Jaime, it was almost like brushing into him, he shook it lightly, then moved the hand back – I'm happy for you.”

“Are you?”, Jaime asked with a smirk.

_Smug, as always. But I liked that._

“I'll miss fucking. - he admitted – But I don't have the arrogance to value more our casual rendezvous over love.”

He whistled, “Love is a big word.”

“It's the word you think about, no?”

“I suppose.”, Jaime confessed, hiding his glance down.

Robb shook his head and stood up, faltering. “I'll still accept the lift, if that's fine.”

“That's fine.”, he promised.

Robb picked his jacket and the thin leather bag with folders of hopeless people and notebooks filled to the brink with notes he was not sure could have helped. He had more faith in therapy, before the war hit him in the back, before Jon.

_I'm sorry, it's better this way._

_Better – how was it ever better?_

“How is Jeyne?”, Jaime asked, helping Robb walk to the car outside the bar.

A bitter snort.

“Wondering why she can't get pregnant, while I'm celebrating the news.”

Jaime let out a disapproving groan. “Maybe kids would help you two.”

“Not sure giving birth means you get a penis between your legs, I should check.”, Robb said, half laughing too loud, half about to cry. _God, I hate myself._

_I'm a piece of shit._

Jaime tilted his head, “Maybe marrying her was not the smartest thing you've ever done.”

_As if I didn't know myself, but what was I supposed to do? Me and my stupid shitty idea to fuck a woman and see if it would convert my inverted brain, and then she comes up with not being able to afford an abortion... well, it's not my fault... yes, it's my fault._

_It is, always. Because I always want control, I can't blame others when my search for control backfires._

“You fucked your sister. - Robb reminded him – You can't morally judge me.”

“I thought it was under your professional secret.”

“I was not your therapist, so. - Robb shrugged, his head pulsed, _Jon would hate to see me like this, dad would hate to see me like this_ – It's your fault for opening up to clients just because of their degree.”

Jaime seemed amused and irritated at the same time. His super seven smelled like the sour yellow it was painted in, uncomfortable to the smell as to the sight.

“Did you puke in here?”

“You're such an annoying brat when you're drunk.”, Jaime said, briefly, before pushing Robb more against the car seat.

The weight of Jaime's body shifts, as it presses against Robb and it's almost soothing, the squalor they bathe in.

Robb chuckled, his blue eyes dark with desire and pride, “You can't ask her to fuck you, can you?”

Jaime stiffened, then he let out almost a frustrated roar and pushed his mouth against Robb's, searching for it, pushing, forcing him to open it. Robb smiled – solace and elation like murky wine in his veins – deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue in Jaime's hungry mouth and then biting his lips, parting, keeping the man moaning, pending down for more, desperate.

He glanced down, seeing Jaime already hard. _How much did you miss someone controlling you?_

Robb passed a hand over the tent in the dark pants.

“You didn't say yet to your pretty policewoman what you like people to do to you, did you?”

Jaime let out a frustrated groan, panting and biting his lips, as Robb's hand caressed his erection.

“C'mon, Jaime. - he mocked, squeezing his shaft with a tipsy shimmer in his eyes – Tell me to stop.”

“You're a jerk when drunk.”, he panted, correcting himself.

_You're a jerk when sober. You were a jerk when you asked me to fuck you the first time in this damn parking lot._

_I'm married. Does it matter? Of course, it does. Also, it's illegal. With a cock like that, one would expect you to have some balls. I'm married. Do you imagine her to be a man?_

_Yes, I did. But she never looked like you._

Robb shook his head, swallowed.

“Sorry. - he mumbled, fumbling an excuse – I didn't mean to.” _It's not about you either._

_I'm just tired of thinking about Jon's brain split and sprayed on the wall. And I'm tired of not being able to help people, or myself. Anyone, really._

_And Jeyne loves me. She does, poor fucking idiot, who married a rotten root who wasn't meant to bloom flowers with her._

_And Jeyne loves me. And I never loved anyone in my life, because I can't get close to anyone – not when it's like this. I can't get arrested, I can't lose my job, I can't. I can't._

Jaime moved away and sat next to him, “I'll drive you home, okay?”

“Sorry for the...”

“It's fine. - he said – You're not you, when you drink like that.”

“I have a new patient.”

“At the veterans center? - Jaime asked, starting the car – Is he like the Molotov guy?”

Robb shook his head, slowly, “No, he seems harmless, he mostly hallucinates.”

“Delightful. Which pieces did he lose?”

“Some fingers and toes. Couple teeth too. On the file said he got tortured for months.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“No wonder he lost it. - Jaime scoffed, trying to pay attention to the poorly-lit road – Torture... they live in the middleages.”

“Don't we all. - Robb mumbled, feeling suddenly cold and holding himself – But I don't think that's all there is.”

Jaime made a sound between choking and cursing.

“Like, there is worse?”

“He didn't speak much. - Robb explained – Which is normal, for the first meetings, he's... embarrassed, he doesn't think this will help, he is ashamed... I think there has to be some underlying problem. Something growing up.”

“Like an Oedipus complex or that shit?”

“You always think about incest. - Robb observed, with a brief laugh, his breathe getting white in the dark night sky – He speaks of his brother trough comparisons, he is defensive towards his sister, he lied during the words association... not a serene family, for sure.”

Jaime scoffed, “I also had a not serene family, doesn't mean I'd turn crazy.”

Robb frowned, “You fucked yo-”

“Got it. - Jaime interrupted him – I'm shutting up.”

Robb looked at him, “He's... he needs some help and some care.”

Jaime raised his eyebrows but didn't stop looking at the street.

“Avoid falling in love with the lost cause.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your pathological need to protect others will get you in trouble. - he said, dryly – You always do this, you need to be needed, gods know why.”

_Because so people don't leave._

_It's easy, truth to be told. I'm needed? They won't go away. I protect them? It's in their interest remaining close._

_So I never risk to lose anyone. Despite how I am..._

“I am not so stupid to hit on a patient. - Robb took out a cigarette from his shirt pocket – Not to add, I'm not even sure if he plays for the team.”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“He's a patient.”

Jaime laughed, “So he did say something.”

Robb rolled his eyes, embarrassed, “He asked me if I'd spank him.”

“You even share kinks. - Jaime made an amused face,mocking a moved expression – Isn't this love?”

“Shut up. - Robb commented, eyes closed, voice shy and dry – He is probably so straight he didn't realize how he sounded.”

“Yeah, that sounds logical.”, Jaime sarcasmed out.

Robb closed his eyes, welcoming the sweet evening breeze in his face.

_I hate you a bit, when you give me hope that the morning will tear apart. I hate a bit how I believe it can be and then find reality and it hurts a bit more than it would have had otherwise, finding a soft raw heart out of his cement cage._

_It's not like, even if, anything could happen, though._

_He's a patient. I'm married. It's the ultimate never._

“ _I liked to read the dictionary as a kid.”_

_Me too. It gave me a sense of control, knowing the meaning of everything I could encounter; it was an illusion, of course, but at the time, it seemed such a powerful thing._

_Were you like me, Theon? Even a bit._

His voice came out hoarse, sand exposed by the undertow waiting for the sea to come back.

“His brother died in front of his eyes.” . _Like me, like Jon._

_I suppose._

Jaime bit the inside of the cheek, silenced.

“Jaime.”

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry I used your issues to win arguments.”

“You're not my therapist. - Jaime laughed and winked to him – Also, I feel I kind of deserve a reminder of my fuck ups, from time to time, just not to get too cocky.”

“I still shouldn't have.”

“Fair, fair. Just bring me to see _High Plains Drifter_ one time, pay me the ticket and we're even.”

_Really now._

“Buy good taste in movies, one day.”, Robb mumbled, breathing in the smoke of the cigarette.

Jaime's mouth twitched and curled up.

“We've arrived, Cinderella. - he claimed – The pumpkin carriage will stop to let you descend.”

Robb stared at his house from the car. _White walls, white roof, white fence. I hate white, always hated white – it's so plain, so empty. Empty sheets of paper with no colors on. White is only white and solely white and it's the absence of everyfucking thing and it turns me anxious and my stomach flips and she loves it so much._

_White, white, white, she wanted it all white and pure – “it looks bigger” “it looks empty” “don't you like it?” “no no, I- it's fine”. I'm a coward and you're a frigid saint. I hate you so because I can't love you and just affection feels like bread without salt._

_I hate you, I hate you because I wish I loved you and instead you just give me a migraine._

_Jeyne, Jeyne, so white you are so empty and I'm too scared to tell you I'm all red._

“Thank you...”, Robb whispered back.

Jaime raised an eyebrow, looked at him, “She's going to be worried sick about you.”

_If you tell me to take better care of her I swear to god... do I even do anything else? Did I ever do anything else that is not taking care of others in this fuckhole of a life?_

_Fucking you was my first selfish act and it's eating me inside because it meant nothing._

_I cursed my soul, stained a wedding, it all for someone I didn't even love. Could I ever do something more meaningless?_

“I will.”

Jaime frowned, “You will what?”

“Be better. - he replied, tired – I just... Jon and then the work at the clinic getting worse, I just... I think I needed to steam out.”

Jaime looked at him like he wanted to say something, anything. But didn't.

He shut up , nodded with the head and went back ; and Robb walked towards his too white home, thinking about words printed black on white in a dictionary, how easier things are, black on white, how easier things are when there is not void.

And he entered his house and said hello to the dog, ruffled the fur, because he had no fault and he opened the fridge, ate a green apple, chugged cold coffee – taking away the scent of alcohol, its taste, from his mouth, and prayed Jeyne wouldn't notice.

He rested his head against the fridge a long while.

“ _And then you'll spank me and make me admit I was wrong?” Oh, god._

_Oh, god, I would._

“ _And then you'll spank me?”._ He felt his cock harden at the idea, just imagining that man, bending on all four in front of him. _No no no. That's fucked up. He's a patient. He needs me to take care of his mind._

“ _Doctor Stark, I was so wrong... - no no no, not like that, oh fuck ,_ he imagined Theon rubbing against his crotch _– Thank you, you helped me so much... how can I give you some back?” Oh, goddammit._

He stared at his half-hard cock. Well, drinks were not as strong as once.

_I shouldn't, I shouldn't._ His hand went to his crotch, rubbing it slowly, his forehead still resting on the fridge, his breath panting heavy.

“ _Please.” Fuck, no, he's... he's a poor guy, he needs help, he needs me to help him. He doesn't need that, that's not the..._ His crotch stirred at the picturing Theon's lips sucking him through the briefs. He had beautiful lips, _so swollen and big, “They always say they look made to suck cock”. I bet they tell him that. He has a mouth that looks so needy. He even misses teeth, I shouldn't... “Please, doctor, let me give it back to you...” he is just a patient. He can't know, though, he would never know..._

“ _Robb, please let me suck i-”_

“Robb?”

He jumped, startled, hitting his head against the fridge. He cursed.

His cock hard and half out of his zipper. He was red in the face, caught red-handed and red-cocked, panting in the dark room.

Jeyne just gave him a merciful look, though.

“Were you afraid to wake me up? - a smile – You know I don't mind... doing my wifely duty.”

Hhe stiffened.

“Ah, but, I'm... - _gay, and dreaming of my patient, god, I'm so fucked up,_ \- You don't have to.”

She moved closer to him and smiled, kissing his jaw.

“Let's go in the bedroom, c'mon...”

_The bedroom, right. God forbid we'd dirty the kitchen. I'm so mean, I'm so mean, I'm awful, fuck._

“It's okay, Jey, really.”, he whispered, barely.

He could feel his erection pulsing, throbbing for attention.

She looked at him, and her eyes are brown but her heart is so white, _so fucking white, god I hate your innocent eyes – he has black eyes, so black like ink and they shine so dark – I shouldn't, I shouldn't – Jon's brain on that fucking wall, Jon's brain staining it all red, “And then you'll spank me?”_ \- and as they walk past the sofa he threw her on it, kissing her wildly, making her sink in the pillows, her tiny skinny body so fragile under his. At first she gasped in surprise, then she just meowled, panted, widened her legs, welcoming his hips in between them.

He cupped her face with his hands, rubbing himself against her soft panties, already wet through. She moaned, suckling on his tongue, keeping him in, her hips softly rubbing against him.

“ _Did you ever fuck men before the war?” “You're my first, doctor.” No, no way, no way he's a virgin, he - “Oh, doctor, Robb, you're so big.”_

“Robb. - she called, once, twice, thrice – Robb!”, her voice so acute.

“ _Please, please, fuck me.” You're a patient, I shouldn't, I can't, I mustn't. “Please, nobody will know...”_

He pushed a finger into Jeyne, it slipped in so nice and quick – she bit her hand, suffocating a moan, she was wet, wet and thick in her juices – _did she touch herself? not that she would admit it_ – even the second one entered smoothly and she arched her back, sucking her lips, pushing towards him.

And at the third finger, he curled them, caressing her inside softly, teasing the spot the new would melt her. She squirmed, clenched onto him, arched, begged.

_Her voice is so high, so fucking high, her insides so soft. So wet. Jaime was warmer, though._

_He would be so warm. You shouldn't. He looked so sad. Help him for real. He looked so in need. If he clings to me, if he clings to me – he's a patient, you can't – I won't let him go. He won't let go._

_Jon's brain. Jon's blood._

“ _And do you like it?”_

“ _Do you like me, doctor?” . I'd hold him down, he has such a pretty neck, it's made to be bitten. He's a patient. You're disgusting, Robb. “I feel so alone...” I feel alone too, I feel alone all the time, I feel alone fucking my wife, I feel alone living in a lie._

“ _I like words...”. The way you speak, it seems to me you could understand me. He is a patient._

Jeyne moaned out loud, her pussy clenching around Robb's fingers, now four, rubbing inside her, courting her, letting her melt all around him.

“Robb... - she moaned, her hands holding his back, caressing it, his hand deep into her, thrusting, his fingers setting her alight – Robb, I'm... this is obscene, oh, please, enter.”

_Obscene? How is it obscene?_

_You know what's obscene? How much lies you can pile over a heart before it breaks._

“Relax. - he murmured to her, softly, enjoying how tight she'd get when close and how warm against him – Let yourself feel good, baby.”

“ _Come for me, Theon.” His ass would clench him, keep him in, beg him to fuck and then stay in._

_He is a patient, Robb._

“ _Spank me while you fuck me, please.”_

She came, her toes curled and the legs straight, moans coming out so drenched and vulgarly perfect, her mouth dropping open with need. She came, squirting against him, and it was transparent and smelled like cunt, but it was enough. She sprayed, he could pretend. He kissed her deep, suffocating her voice before she could speak.

“ _You came so well, Theon.” He is a patient, don't, don't. “My ass... just from my ass...” His voice would be so delicious, I want to bit him, to eat him. Robb, please, you're drunk, return to normal. Robb. “I feel so empty now... please.”_

“Do you feel empty without me?”, he groaned, over her mouth.

Her mouth opened in a breathless gasp.

“What are you saying?”, she seemed scandalized.

His hard cockhead pressed on her entrance and slid in and she forgot quickly, welcoming him with pained bliss, biting her own lips to silence, letting droplets of moans slip only from the small cracks in her lips.

_I'm so sorry._

_You don't deserve this, I know. It's wrong. I'm wrong. I'm rotten stuff._

“Oh god, Robb. It's...” _“Oh god, Robb, you're so big.”_

“Does it feel good?”

“Don't ask!” _“Yeah, better than ever, god.”_

“You feel amazing...”

A blush, almost a slap, then she held tighter, moaned, as he thrusted.

“Don't say – a thrust turned her voice in a melted moan – that stuff!” _“You feel amazing too inside me.”_

He held her so tight and thrust in her so hard that, for a moment, a blind moment, he loved her.

_I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry._ He thrust deeply and deeply kissed her. And as she moaned in his mouth, he could just feel the horror he was covering his whole heart like wax. _I'm so sorry._

_He has hair the dark color of tar and of the nights I can imagine him. And he has the voice that so fragile. His hands. He misses fingers, please, please, focus on the fingers missing. His hands felt so soft and his back so thin._

“ _Robb.”_

He felt Jeyne's flesh constricting him as she trembled and came again, almost weeping, her breath faltering, startled, all of her shaken by that pounding and slamming harder than her meek husband ever fucked her like.

He held her by the waist and sunk, restless and voracious as he never seemed, dark-eyed in desire.

Jeyne felt her cheek burn at the sight, at the feel, her cunt melting to flames of bliss, as he got faster, rougher, and pushed into her, coming with grunts and groans of a beast.

“Robb!” _“Robb, doct- Robb...”_

He came thick, his hips still twitching and bucking against her trembling fruit, stained in both their juice's, frenzied and feverish with delight. Jeyne smiled, caressed his face.

And he looked at her, and smiled. But his eyes turned sad.

“I love you.”, she said, heartfelt.

“I love you too.”, he replied.

He moved out, scopping his warmth out of her too, and took off the shirt to put it around her shoulders.

“I didn't know you had that in you...”, she confessed, shy.

And he felt dirty beyond rotten.

 

5\. THEON

 

_Oh, good morning, honey. How do you feel today? Teeth white as snow, the stench of pee, my ankles burn and hurt. His hands run through my skin. My dad's cigars scent. His tongue is in my mouth and it's wet and slimy and gross. A dim, a din, a whistle. A low, cracking, shattering whistle. Oh, honey, did you miss me yet? Close your eyes, clamp your mouth, shut your mind. He can't come in, he can't come in. I always find an entrance, my dear. It can be the open cut I sway on your belly, not deep enough to gut you, just enough to make you scream and want to die. It can be the blood swamp from where your fingernails should be once I flip it over. It can be your ass, if you prefer, I'll pierce through it easy, since you want it. Because you want it, don't you? You disgusting faggot slut, did you join the military to get gangbanged by all of your platoon? Stop. Stop. Stop it. It's not true. Then why? So your dad would love you? The whistle grows, the whistle grows, it cuts the earth, it crack from down and opens it like a mouth of stone. Rodrik's guts in the river. The scent of blood, the stench of corpses rotting in the swamp. You're lucky you came back. But why you? You wanted your daddy to love you? You wanted his cock up your ass? Stop, stop please. Was your uncle not big enough for you? Stop. Hope mine will be. Stop. You don't need this finger, do you? Which one do you like less, tell me? So I can cut it, fuck you with it before I drive my cock into you. Stop stop stop. The whistle turns to fire, the whistle turn into dust. I'm on the ground, head bleeding and a block of cement on a foot. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Scum. Why you? Why you? You don't need this finger, do you? I don't understand, I don't understand what you're saying, please, please, fuck. You're so pretty, it's almost like you're made for this. You look like a girl with long hair, shave them. Look at your brothers for fucks sake. You look like a fucking queer. You're so pretty. Iron iron iron in the mouth,blood thick and slippery on the floor. Whistles, burns, is that wire no no no. Hold still. Your wrists look so cute now. Do you want to meet my ants?_

“Theon?”

He half-jumped, startled. The bowl of, by then lukewarm, milk spilled on the table. Oatmeal lazily expanding on the surface.

“What a mess. - Asha said, trying to sound like when they were young and unbroken – I found you a job, maybe, but you have to not spill things.”

Theon raised his eyes, blinking, “A job?”

“At a bar. - she said – Nothing special, but it's a start.”

Oh yeah. Drunk people. Glass. Tingles. Sounds. Nights. Alcohol. Laughs. That was going to be funny.

He felt tired just at the idea of showing to introduce himself to the place.

He then remembered he didn't shower since his last therapy session. He kept thinking about the sound of the river as it swallowed up Rodrik's plane and his guts and his voice.

“Thanks.”

“Will you go?”

“Ah-a.”, he whispered, nodding.

Asha didn't seem convinced, but didn't dare to force him.

“Do you like your new therapist?”

Theon shrugged, staring at the oatmeal puddle but without focusing on it fully. He sighed, scooper the stuff back in the bowl and threw it in the sink.

“He's a normal guy.”

“We can find someone else, if...”

“No. - he turned, half screaming, then his eyes went wide, his chest seemed to break as he took in the volume he replied to and , weakly, whispered – This one is fine.”

“Is he?”

_I like him._

_He doesn't look at me like I'm ruined. He doesn't look at me with pity._

_And I know be probably doesn't care anyway but he pretends well._

“He's funny.”

_I imagined him, last night. Holding me, cleaning my mouth, after I woke up covered in puke, he cleaned my mouth all well and petted my hair._

_And then I dreamt of Ramsay again._

_And he kissed me all hungry and angry and open-mouthed and devoured my ass and tore it fucking it. And he was not gentle anymore._

_But that's because of Ramsay, not because of him._

_And that's because you're a whore who dreams whorey things._

“ _Tear me apart, tear me apart, oh, please.” “You seem to be made for this.”_

“ _Theon”. TheonTheonTheon. Voices always melt in his mind, because it's always dark there._

_Barely moonlight._

_Only liquid darkness thick as the Vietnam mud, attached to the ankle or as if filled his mouth._

“Does he make jokes?”

_He asks me how I am as if he cares._

_He is a therapist, baby, it's his job. Nobody cares for you._

“He likes mine.”

“That's weird.”, Asha replied, but smiled.

“Some people do.”, Theon tried to mock.

_People I shouldn't want to erase and rewind my life._

_People I shouldn't want to be cleaned by – my soul is all dust and my skin is covered in tar, what am I supposed to be anymore?_

_Do you want to meet my ants?_

His ankles hurt, remembering the iron sinking in them, too tight, cutting and infecting.

_What a pleasant dream, being dirtied and destroyed by you, instead than by them, by him, by myself. What a nice way to self-destruct, to be taken, instead than being left aside._

“I think I'll go out tonight.”

“Really? - Asha's grin was back and Theon felt a bit less guilty about being alive – With some nice thing?”

Theon shrugged, “One who I will meet there.”

 

6\. ROBB

 

Theon chuckled, leaning forward, and staring at Robb.

Rocks of ice dancing gracefully in amber liquor. And he smelled like it wasn't the first.

“Doctor Stark. - a mechanical, vulnerable laugh, as if earth left his feet – Weird to find you here.”

Robb's eyes lingered on him, on the soft full lips, on the cut of his shoulder blade and the way a little fur from his chest came out of his half-opened shirt.

Robb's eyes gleamed, thunderstruck by desire.

“Are you here to apply your old coping mechanism?”

Theon let out a low, almost embarrassed laugh, a scoff that hid behind a smug smile.

He sat next to him and looked at Robb's auburn hair reflecting the dim light of the place.

“We're not in your studio. - he pointed out – No need to be all formal. Yes, I came here to fuck.”

“It's a progress, I guess.”

“I thought it was regressive.”

Robb shrugged, licked his lips, “Sometimes, things are both.”

Theon frowned, confused, realizing also he felt hurt by how his doctor was not looking at him anymore.

Salt burned in the wounded knot of his stomach, for some reason.

He tried to put on a smirk.

Robb glared at him, dreaming of pulling his hair and sunk his teeth in that neck until that smirk would have been washed away.

Pale reflections of undared desires lost themselves in the sea of his mind.

_Jeyne. I need to think of Jeyne._

_Not his lips._

But Theon's lips trembled. And his blood boiled.

“I'll go for a breath of fresh air.”, Robb said.

“I'll come too.”, Theon sad, chugging down his drink, not sure why, because outside was too cold and he hated that.

And Robb seemed not to want him to follow, but he did anyway.

Anyway. Somehow. Brought up ad aroused and risen by a forced slapping him against that man, against all odds.

The night was chill, cold with frozen dew and capricious little rain, dropping and dripping from the bar's roof. And Robb found a dark corner, closed his eyes, leaned against the bar walls and breathed in.

Theon looked at him, unsure what he was seeing.

A naked heart, perhaps.

But he felt mesmerized by that undone part of his doctor, that vulnerable true pulsing naked piece of flesh. He felt less alone, somehow.

“Cigarette?”, he asked.

Robb lifted an eyebrow.

Theon licked his lips, then placed a cigarette in his mouth and one in Robb's. Put them close, almost kissing, and lit up the lighter between them. He breathed in, without moving away from how close he was to Robb and Robb's eyes chained him further, while he also breathed in to make his cigarette burn.

And Theon's hips felt a shock of need.

He gulped dry.

“I... maybe you're a bit disappointed I'm doing this.”

Robb's eyes didn't move from him.

“No.”

_I'm angry. I'm jealous._

_I'm aroused and enraged, I'm sullen and ablaze. And I want to sink into you and make you mine._

_Jeyne, think of Jeyne._

_I want you to have lowered my pants in therapy and rubbed your face on my cock and begged me for it, instead of wearing tight pants and going to a bar trying to find someone to treat you like a disposable whore._

“Then what... - Theon started, feeling uneasy as Robb clearly felt something he was not sharing, then remembered he was not supposed to get this close to his therapist in first place, was he even ust that, why did it hurt to find out he was married then? – Nothing.”

Robb breathed in the cigarette, consuming it, staring in the starless night.

_Jeyne. I have to think about Jeyne._

Theon's full lip shivered.

There were some things clear, limpid and harsh as dawnlight.

One of these was that he was not supposed to want Theon.

The second, the most hurtful one, probably, was that he did.

He did in the intervals of Jeyne's breaths and in the void between her tiny fingers and in the moments gin went through his throat and in the last breath of every cigarette before strangling it with his shoe.

He wanted him in a way that was too low and too holy at the same time.

And he knew he shouldn't have looked at a human being like that, because he was just a person, not a symbol of the truth coming to get him, not a tremendous amount of things he should have faced before Jeyne or before Jon or Jaime or anything went downhill and to fuckville.

But he couldn't help himself.

When those hurt fingers twitched in the air, when that boneless tired voice came out in self-deprecation, when his scared eyes filled up with the opaque and drained film of a memory that couldn't be healed, Robb felt the need to slam Theon against the wall. Just to touch him, once, finally, hopelessly. Stupidly, even.

It didn't matter.

He wanted to kiss Theon wildly and fill his mouth like he had to drink him, he wanted to hold those hips so tight he would have bruised them, he wanted to drag moans out of him and reduce him to a writhing squirmy mess.

He wanted to shut him up, to take off every scab and lick his open wounds – pour salt and kisses over it, and turn him whole and turn himself whole too.

And he knew he shouldn't have wanted a person like that. Especially when Theon trusted him, when Theon didn't know, when Theon didn't... reciprocate.

But there was a pain in the void between them.

He wanted him.

_Think about Jeyne, Jeyne so pure, so in love, so yours. Why do youu follow what's not yours, like Icarus? Let him be, let him go, let him never care for you._

_Why does the lack of touching his skin burns o deep down your fingertips?_

Robb threw his extinguished cigarette butt on the ground, and breathed low, looking at it. Theon took his own after of his mouth, keeping it between the fingers, and smirked, letting out of his lips a thin line of white smoke.

“I'm sorry.”, Robb said.

And he grabbed Theon's wrist, and he pinned him against the outside wall. Theon's eyes shone in surprise, but he did not protest.

The cigarette slipped from his fingers.

He closed his eyes, slowly, opening his mouth.

And Robb pushed into it, plunging into him , tongue taking him over, dominating his space, fucking his mouth big and full.

Theon welcomed him, threw his arms at him, his hands gripping on Robb's face and back, pulling him closer in a eager, starving kiss.

His mouth, his whole soul, was a hole to fill and feed.

And Robb pulsed like violent perfection against him.

Robb's hand went to his pants, squeezing his cock, making Theon's knees buckle to jelly.

Theon let out a chocked breath.

“Why can't it be me?”, Robb almost roared, then jerking the shaft, making Theon's hips fail and tremble.

Theon bit his lips, his eyes watery as he panted out, “You are not...”

“I am.”

Robb closed his eyes, sinking in him again, tongue filling Theon's mouth to the brink, Theon moving against him, moaning in his mouth as Robb would torment his hardening cock.

Theon panted, his eyes barely focusing.

Then he realized.

The silence in the background didn't grow. Only their breathes echoed in the night.

He pulled Robb closer, drugged by the peace.

“My place?”

 

7\. JAIME

 

Once a green-eyed god, now a green-eyed monster.

And Jaime knew what craving felt like, he did feel it for years, outside of her sister's bedroom door – he knew how it burnt the idea of her skin belonging to someone else's fingers, brushing over it absent-mindedly, stupidly unaware of the gift it was to touch her velvet lips and drink her dew.

But now it was different.

With Brienne, it was different.

It didn't burn lie fire in his veins and nerves. It didn't set him alight.

It consumed him: like waves of the sea smoothing and taking away parts of the stones that dare to rest on the shore, bit by bit a part of him would die and disappear and melt in foam every time he saw Renly – Renly even, her boss and for sure not a threat – passing a hand through her blond hair.

It didn't felt like being too alive to work.

It felt like dying each moment a bit harder.

He stood there in front of her door, with the most miserable mortified expression she had ever seen. She sighed, annoyed.

“What do you want?”

“I want you.”, he admitted, words heavy as concrete blocks.

She sighed, not believing him the slightest.

“You must find it funny. Or maybe flattering, maybe, to come back to me, knowing well enough you won't have competition.”

“Oh, trust me, if I could pick, I wouldn't want to desire something that could hurt me so.”

“ _Me_? Hurting _you_?”, she almost snapped, but her voice seemed to just fall in a scoff.

He gulped down dryly, “You go beyond my control. And you fuck me up. I had a plan, I had ideas, I thought I was done with it all.”

“Done with what?”

_...feeling, depending, needing._

_Love, I suppose._

He trembled, “... you... took me off guard.”

“So you're afraid? - she frowned, she wanted to forgive him, but hurt burnt still and the scar left by his disappearance pulled her skin and electrocuted her heart – I am too. But I don't drop you for it.”

“You're not... like me.”

“How?”

_Tell her the truth._

“Malfunctioning but extremely charming?”, he suggested, in a bitter laugh.

_Tell her the whole truth._

“Do you have any idea how _humiliating_ it was to trust you? - her eyes stung and burned, her cheeks felt hard as steel – To be vulnerable to you?”

“Do you have any idea how it feels like to be next to you when you're me? - _I have so many gross, sticky, dirty skeletons in my closet, rotting between my walls, and.... Jaime, tell her the truth and only the truth._ – You're just... there, all pure and stainless and like nothing ever could make you do one bad deed, while I'm all bad deeds and some lewd jokes.”

Brienne seemed to fall quiet, she looked at him.

“...that's not true.”

_You remind me of someone I will never be and it cuts me open._

_You remind me of a love I will never have and it pours salt in my flesh._

“It is to me.”

“So it's not about.... - she vaguely gestured at herself, but her arm seemed to be strengthless – … this?”

Jaime scoffed.

_No, it was never about that. Not even for a second._

“You must be quite more shallow than I initially thought, miss Tarth, if you think your body is the most relevant thing about you.”

“I suppose it's a luxury of people with your face to not worry about it.”

“If my face annoys you so much, you should sit on it.”

She frowned, “I beg your pardon?”

Jaime moved closer, his hand moving to her cheek. She was taller than him, so he ended up having the most embarrassing need to stand on his tip toes and brought her down for a deep kiss.

She seemed to have little experience. Their teeth clacked and her tongue moved confusedly, but Jaime led her, smooth, soft, searching for her skin, cupping her cheeks and invading her soft big lips.

“As I said. - he whispered on the verge of her mouth, parting – I do want you.”

“That way too?”

“That way a lot too.”

“Then why did you stand me up?”, she asked, trying to not let the last leftovers of grudge stain her voice. He was being so vulnerable behind that smirk, she would have hated to push him away.

Jaime sucked his lips and let out a breathy, groaning sound. He closed his eyes, as if it costed him inhuman labor to speak up. He scratched the shell of his ear and sighed.

“Before you, I had... I was in a relationship with a person and it lasted a long time.”

Her throat clenched. She felt stupid.

Of course he did.

“Oh.”

“And I'm not exactly sure how to function without her. - he cleared his throat – Not because I love her but because I was not even sure we... existed apart, in a way.”

Brienne blinked, then looked sad, but with her usual dignity, she tried to speak, “If she's still important to you, I-”

“No, god. Not in a good way, anyway. - he licked his lips, god , he hated that, he hated it, he just wanted to joke and throw japes and make her laugh or make her angry and she was so pretty when she got a bit mad at his teasing and – I did things I'm not proud of.”

“Didn't everyone?”

“Did you?”, he asked, almost mocking, mostly heartbroken.

She fell silent.

“And I know, the instant I tell you, it will be all spoiled. - Jaime let out a sigh but he smiled, so mechanical and sad that he almost reminded Brienne of Asha's brother – But – he laughed, loudly, now – But I need to tell you because, for some reason, you make me want to tell you everything, spill every … bad, gross thing as if... that could help in any way.”

She swallowed. A part of her resisted him and the need to come close to him, the idea of what he could mean, of what he could have done of so unforgivable taunted her, hitting her steel chest, on the other side, she was stupidly naively sure she had seen in Jaime a good person. And maybe, maybe that didn't change, regardless of what he was going to say.

“My sister.”

Brienne stared at him questioning, as if she waited for a clarification that didn't come.

Then her lips twisted slightly, as it set in, sand at the bottom of the hourglass.

Jaime let out a chuckle, “I hate being right.”

She frowned, looked at him, confused. _Pieces don't match at all, do they, sweetheart? I really fucked up this time._

_And I'm not the man you deserve. And I'm not even in a bone the man I should be._

_You can go away now... I won't judge you._

But, instead, she moved closer.

Her hand trembles as she took his in, and she raised and kissed it, as softly as a mother on a wound and as devotedly as a knight to a king.

_Doesn't it disgust you? Don't I?_

“You are tearing up.”, she said, gently, and her kiss went on his eyelids. Her big lips felt so soft.

_Won't you just move away? Won't you just let me rot away?_

_Why are you always here when I need you to?_

And he passed his hand on her cheek and caught her mouth in a soft kiss and she closed her blue eyes and replied to it. He waited to move his tongue, slowly, a bit too sweet perhaps, as if he was afraid to break her or make her move away. She, instead, pulled him closer from behind his head with one hand and soon the other went on the small of his back. Jaime's right rested on her cheek still, while the left courted her waist, like one would with the veil of a bride, then squeezing it, as carnally as the foolish drunk youth.

Brienne's mouth tasted so sweet it almost made him dizzy. Or maybe it was happiness.

Stupid silly happiness.

She parted from the kiss and rested her forehead against his, separating again just to kiss it softly.

“I can't say it's what I expected to hear. - she admitted, almost scared at how much she didn't actually feel scared or pushed away by the revelation – But I would say it's a great reason to be scared to try a new relationship.”

Jaime chuckled, “I haven't known you for all thirty-three years of my life, maybe we should slow down.”

Brienne laughed this time, right before her eyes shone in a sad gleam.

“She was the one who hurt you, wasn't she? - her voice strained – The bruises, the cuts on your face... I thought you were one to get in fistfights a bit too much.”

“I am that too. - Jaime admitted – But I'm better at avoiding punches than dishes.”

Her grip on his back got stronger and Jaime pushed again on his tiptoes, drowning in her mouth with another kiss, this time more daring, intense, filling her until she moaned against him.

His second hand moved, caressing her chest, brushing over herthe boobs, through the soft fabric of her blouse. He pinched her nipple and she bucked and moaned again. He drunk it up, before breaking the kiss and licking his lips.

“Would you consider inappropriate if we didn't wait for a real date?”

“Oh fuck no.”, she said, pulling him close.

Jaime smiled wide in the new kiss and held her back, pulling her close.

“Hope you have a resistant bed, then.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**And you sang: Sail to me, let me enfold you**

 

* * *

 

 

8\. THEON

 

Robb had the scent of something he had forgotten.

Theon couldn't place it exactly, whether it was the smoke, the ink, the perfume he wore, but Robb's odour forced his brain into such a melancholic and hungry state, like he needed to drown in it and get lost.

And then he would have been repaired, all his pieces fixed up.

No sharp edges to cut through his mauled flesh.

Robb's tongue felt pressing, too big, pushing through him, forcing him to welcome it and dragging moans out of him. They kissed on the road, slamming against buildings, hiding behind bushes, they made out through the streets up to Theon's place.

Eagerness was burning through them as intense as the blue of the night.

Theon ran his hands on Robb's curls and back, he pulled him down and against him, as if he were waves and his crushing and breaking on the rocks would in any way put his pain to sleep.

And he prayed for Robb not to feel the void where his fingers were supposed to be.

What's the taste of absence?

What's the sound of the void?

But Robb sunk into him, drowning in him as if nothing could pull them apart, not even being, in the end, different bodies torn  apart one from the other by skin and flesh.

Theon trembled on the verge of the Robb's mouth, moans drew out, spilled in droplets of ardent whimpers. Robb's hand ran on his face, caressing it, cupping it, pulling it close with a possession and a hunger Theon forgot existed in the world.

Cold violet fire ran violently up their spines and their blood pooled down and called them to the side where every moral is blurred.

Theon bit Robb's bottom lip, drawing blood, Robb held Theon's wrists, painting bruises.

There was art in cruelty, tenderness in violence.

Theon's eyes teared up, as he welcomed Robb's tongue again, his kiss openmouthed and animalistic, and that bliss and that hasty urgency in him purified his blood and set his veins on fire.

Theon barely felt the wall behind him hurting his back, cold and rigid, all he felt were Robb's hands running through his clothes, tearing, taking, claiming – and his eyes could not focus on anything but the autumn red in his hair.

_They burn so low, they burn so red_ ... 

_Burn me too, at once, to the ground._

Robb opened his shirt and kissed his chest, relentlessly, eager, he sucked his collarbones and nipples, like a baby striving for sweet milk, his hot tongue riding then the shivers he provoked, making Theon squirm and arch at the obscene bliss staining him.

Robb returned to his salty, briny jugular – A _m I mating with a wolf? Will he eat me and consume me whole? Swallow me in darkness? Maybe that would be better ..._ – and sucked on it, gripping the blood to him, letting it rise to the surface, purple and aching.

_Swollen and hurt as I am._

_Where you can't see me, in the most rotten side of me._

Theon moaned, grabbing onto Robb's back, his fingers sliding and slipping at times, as pleasure seized his nerves and made him writhe and made his hold weak and needy.

Pins and needles sunk into his flesh as ships foundering into the deepest blue sea.

And bliss poured from where Robb's lips burnt and marked him.

His teeth claiming the flesh, making it open.

Theon's lips trembled and his hips bucked, weakly, “Doctor Stark.”

Robb stopped, maybe remembering only now who he was. His fingers brushed, gently, on Theon's chest, on his hairs and scars, on the juncture between the scorching naked flesh and the cold curtain of the cotton shirt, so devotedly, so heartbroken.

Theon felt something gulping and clenching down his throat.

He moved his hands to Robb's face and forced him to look directly in his eyes, heavy-lidded and blown black by desire as they were.

“Robb. - he called him again, smooth and smouldering, then chuckling, with some embarrassment – I'm a bit too rusty for doing it against the wall.”

Robb let out a little lopsided smile, his eyelids lowered and he kissed Theon's lips softly.

He probably meant that to be short and chaste, but soon he was pushing into Theon again, unable to stop, unable to satiate himself.

Theon smiled in the kiss, as he felt Robb's stubble scrape his scarred chin.

_Hide me well, swallow me well._

_If I can disappear like that, then it's fine._

Robb's big tongue invaded him full and then took his taste in, lightly reaching, skimming over the gums left sterile and empty without the missing teeth.

_I hate your shit eating grin. We should fix that._

_Don't you think?_

Theon flinched, gagged – Robb slipped out and stared at him panting, Theon's breath feeling so thin in the air and so swollen, so shaken.

His eyes shone with a shattered gleam.

But, as he saw Robb's hand on his shoulder, all he could hear was his own breath, the way it vibrated in the dark hour and echoed round and empty.

His eyes focused on Robb's veins, on his bones, on the hands that felt warm; Robb's hand moved close to his chin and raised his head slightly.

“Breath with me.”, he said, softly, gently.

Theon nodded, his ribcage aching, then his chest pulling and tensing to the point he felt daggers sinking in.

Robb breathed in and out, slowly, calmly, staring at him.

Once, twice, thrice. Then Theon followed him.

Obedient, he closed his eyes and synchronized the rhythm, feeling the air filling his lungs, tensing the ribcage and the bow of his bones curving, then emptying itself again.

“Good. - Robb forced himself to smile, to look reassuring – Let's do it again, hm?”

And they did, and locked their eyes, through the many hard breaths, until Theon's chest felt light again.

He couldn't hear it, then.

The ring, the din, the dim drumming dripping through his skull seemed to have passed.

His eyes were nailed on Robb's and, as he tilted his head, with a worried look, Theon raised his chin closer and kissed him fast, quiet, desperate all at once.

Lost in him, because in him all things found their place.

Clumsily, badly, wrongly. But they did.

He almost sobbed in Robb's mouth as Robb pulled him close, hands circling his waist, grabbing his back, keeping him close and deep.

_If you let me go, I'll crumble._

His sob turned into moans, his shivers into panting.

Robb parted, moving slightly away, “Should we –”

_No. Yes. Absolutely. Maybe._

A dry swallow, “If you haven't changed your mind, I haven't either.”

“I haven't. - Robb chuckled, light, relief crackled like a vivid flame in his voice – Though I know that...”

“We both do.”

Theon caressed his face, and he wondered if Robb could feel the lack of warmth where his fingers missed, but, instead, Robb just kissed the palm, with devoted, hopeless tenderness.

And, then, as his eyes gleamed again, he gave Theon a dark look that turned his blood thick in need.

Robb's hand on his waist pulled him closer.

“Bed, you said?”

Theon smirked, biting his lips in anticipation.

“I did.”

 

9\. JEYNE

 

_How was it, then again, walking the streets without feeling the cement holding my feet back?_

_Were my legs always this heavy?_

She coughed, loud and dry, feeling the back of her throat scratching and pulling. She sniffled, holding herself in her own arms – she didn't have any other to count on – and her cheap faux fur would barely keep her warm, when under her long legs rode raw and naked until just the start of her skinny hips.

She looked at a shop window, not staring at anything in particular, except herself. Supposedly.

_When did we meet the first time?_

Under the color, she felt the grey, under the fake skin, the bruises pulsed still. And stung if she opened her mouth too much.

She remembered when she was a child, watching her mother make up, put on fake eyelashes that would brush on her cheeks, and pinks and mints. A world that left in her mouth the taste of sugar.

But sugar turns bitter if you burn it, doesn't it?

_A pretty girl like you, Jeyne, is wasted in this place._

She shivered, shook, clenched in herself. She tried not to cry, sucking her lips.

Her glance fell again on the shop window, on the little lights, scattered, the decorations glowing. She breathed out, and it turned white and disappeared.

Like pretty much everything.

It just vanished and went away from her.

“Are you cold?”

She turned, and saw her. Her eyes shone, in recognition, but she didn't smile yet, unsure what to expect.

“Agent.”

“Asha. - the one corrected her, with a low laugh – You seem to be freezing.”

Jeyne lowered her look, her cheeks seemed flushed pink, but Asha presumed it would have been more rational to blame the weather.

Jeyne gave back a confused frown, “How come you're out of the car this time?”

Asha smiled, “I'm off duty. - she said, pinching her leather coat and lifting its rims slightly as to show them – I came here for a walk.”

“Nobody comes here for a walk.”, Jeyne observed.

“Smart girl. - a chuckle so dark it made her feel hot in her stomach – Do I scare you?”

Jeyne's glance seemed to soften.  _No, actually, no._

“I'm not sure what you may... - her eyes went on Asha's chest and then crotch, _yes, definitely a woman_ – Want from me.”

“Not collaboration, if that's what you're worried about. - she smirked, but her eyebrows bent up, in some sort of kindness Jeyne was not sure how to accept – … company, perhaps.”

Jeyne stiffened, more confused.

Asha smiled, “Hate to repeat myself, but you're trembling. - she shrugged – And I feel a bit lonely. - she felt a weird tingle in her voice – Would you let me offer you a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“It's this hot beverage, almost black, that...”

Jeyne groaned, while smiling, as Asha also did, biting her lips through a grin.

“I know what coffee is! - she said – I'm just... - a sigh – No tricks, no police station, no... questions.”

Asha smirked, “Deal.”

Jeyne smiled, sucking her lips a bit and clenching her little fur coat, then shame caught up with her.

“I'm not really... dressed.”

Asha kept her eyes up, almost stubbornly avoiding her legs, then cleared her voice, as if something got stranded and stuck in her throat, and let out the most breathy, “Don't worry.” Jeyne ever heard, before taking off her black leather coat and placing it on Jeyne's shoulders.

“It’s a bit large.”, she commented, looking at the wide space between her shoulder and where Asha's coat ended.

The policewoman chuckled, “Maybe in some years, it will be in fashion.”

Jeyne smiled, sucking her lips, amused, “You're making fun of me.”

“I would never. - her eyes gleamed voracious – With malice.”

She didn't seem to notice or, anyway, she blinked it away. She caressed the rim of the coat and kept it close to her. It covered her a bit over her knees, since it arrived to Asha's, and it made her feel small in all a different way than the one she often felt.

It was warm. And not unkind.

“Is it hard for a woman to be in the force?”, she asked, walking looking at her feet, for once, instead of the road.

Asha took out her cigarettes and offered Jeyne one, but she shook her head for a no.

_Is she cold? Does she regret giving me the coat?_

“Well, you need a certain iron fist. - she replied, breathing in the warm white smoke – But I'm glad I did.”

Jeyne smiled, not nervous but confused, doubtful even, “I don't see why someone who can chose not to be in danger, would pick up and run towards it.”

Asha's glance lingered on her a while.

Jeyne was well aware, though, that Asha was not thinking about her in that moment, rather than something else, an old thorn now swallowed by flesh and kept between her old bones, pulsing.

“Because somebody else is. - she replied – In danger. And they can't be left there.”

Jeyne blinked.  _This woman is crazy._

Asha breathed in more smoke, her lips curling around the cigarette in a way that made Jeyne feel an uncomfortable warmth in her belly.

“Who are we if we abandon those who need us, after all?”, Asha said, then, murmuring.

Not proud, not gloating. But all wrapped up by a cold and bitter solitude.

And that, that Jeyne could understand well.

She smiled, tenderly.

“That's not a very common point of view, you know?”

“I like to think I'm one of a kind.”, Asha replied with a proud grin, that tried to hide the shadow of the memories that just emerged.

Jeyne decided to allow that little lie.

“You sure are. - she replied, looking at her shoes and her ankles, wondering when they got so skinny, when all of her lost so much, if the years just consumed her slowly or if it was all at once and she just hated to look at herself too much to take notice – Not a lot of women talk to me.”

Asha glanced at her and then at the jet black sky, heavy above them.

“I suppose, it's easier for them to think of you in a certain way, isn't it?”

Jeyne nodded.

_The whore._

_The wrong one. The guilty one. The one to blame._

_The sinner. The bitch. The witch._

_The other one._

“Not many people do things that are not... the easy version.”, she said, and sniffled slightly.

Asha looked at her longly and longingly, then her arm enveloped her shoulders and she pulled her close. Jeyne made herself even smaller, for some reason.

“Many do, though.”, Asha said, in the warmest tone she had.

Jeyne nodded, though not believing it.

“You know what? - Asha chuckled, with a weird, teary shade in the glass of her voice – I don't feel like coffee. I'm hungry. Let's get a whole dinner.”

Jeyne stiffed, “But...”

“Let me. Please.”

_Why would you beg me to do me a favour?_

_What do you earn from helping me? From taking care of this mass of bones with dreams that have been washed from them?_

“Please.”, Asha repeated.

And Jeyne nodded, unsure why.

 

10\. ROBB

 

Theon's voice was melted darkness.

It scorched, smouldering, and tore him apart. It sank into him, through him, until nothing remained but the sensation of its urgency.

Hasty, needy, it would rise and twirl and writhe.

Theon's hand held Robb's neck, pulling him down, his hips would buck, rubbing their cocks together – desperately, as hardness would get painful, pulsing. Nerves burned asking, begging, for release, and Robb would jerk both of their shafts, pressing them together.

Theon arched his back, screaming, begging, he threw his head back and his neck forward – exposed like that of a deer, Adam's apple made to be bitten off, moans trembling into the flesh obscenely.

Robb's grunts felt like sandpaper, like chocked back roars, as he thrust his hips, fucking the air, their dicks closely pressed, and as his hand went on the heads, pressing the slits, Theon cried out, loud, screaming in overload.

Robb almost chuckled.

“You've such a pretty voice...”

Theon closed his eyes, bit his lips, whined. He could feel his spine set on fire, need pooling down in his balls, insistent for release.

_Don't close them. Let me see them._

Robb's other hand was resting next to Theon's face, allowing Robb to keep himself up, as arousal grew and pushed through him.

Theon bent his head and kissed the hand, softly, devotedly, kissed the wrist bone, the knots were the veins met and, as Robb's hand fastened a quicker rhythm, his mouth opened and he bit it, sinking his teeth into Robb's arm and suffocating his moans against it.

Robb chocked a grunt and squeezed Theon's cock, making him squirm and scream harder, his eyes all wet, delirium and bliss mixed.

And his eyes,  _the colour of ink, liquid and full of unsaid words._

_You've got me on my knees, Layla._

Theon bit down again, as Robb's hand slid on his head, pressing on it, tormenting the slit, teasing the soft necklace of foreskin pulled back, the pulsing red head begging.

Robb felt the missing teeth, the gap in the bite.

_He's a patient. I shouldn't. I shouldn’t._

_I'm begging, darling please, Layla. Darling.. won't you.... ?_

Theon panted, moaned, all the sounds deliciously muffled by his gagged mouth. And his hips moved, crazily, needy, searching for Robb's touch.

As starved.

_I shouldn't. I'm exploiting him._

_He can't... chose, he is not in himself. I'm slipping through the cracks of an unhealthy coping mechanism and he- he makes me feel not alone. I'm so fucked up._

“Please... god... - Theon moaned, leaving Robb's wrist just enough to, his breath shaking in the night. _I wanted you so much. Tell me to stop now, if you tell me, if you tell me, I will._ – Please, I'm so close.”

And Robb left his cock.

Theon whined, moving his hips, almost protesting, until he saw Robb's other hand leaving him. And Robb moving between his legs, bowing, kissing his balls and the tender flesh of the inner tight.

It felt so raw, so oversensitive, pleasure washed over him like rain and every part of his body was torn by shivers.

“Robb... fuck... please.”

Robb's tongue on him felt unreal.

It was hot and soft and lapped him eagerly, with a ravenous, lustful urgency. Avid, the cave opened and Robb's whole mouth soon enveloped Theon's whole length, making him twitch almost violently, chocking out a breathless, soundless moan, throwing his head back.

He was sure he came for a moment, but he missed the relief, and, as he looked down, he saw Robb's hand clenching his base, cruel and gluttonous, sucking his cock fully but forcing him to remain hard still.

And yet, feeling so controlled, in such a way, made Theon feel only better. It filled him with the densest, thickest greed.

Robb's mouth was hot, sheathing his length so well, sucking him, the delicious pressure almost squeezing, dragging the orgasm out of him, while choking it forcefully shut.

And then Robb’s mouth abandoned his cock, just for his tongue to circle the head, suckle it, tease it, tip on tip.

_Come into me. I'm waiting for you._

_I've been waiting for you._

A scream, then another, and another, weaker and more unravelled one after the other, more melted, more needy.

As resistance turned to heat.

– _mark me yours and I'll mark you mine. Let me have this piece of you they can't take away._

Theon rolled his eyes to the ceiling, moaning, and as Robb's hand left his base, he felt Robb's wide, big tongue tease and slide, smooth, on the leaking cockhead, until he came, staining Robb's face, moaning so high and wrecked, in shattered, red moans.

He panted, then, out of breath, bliss still pressing on his chest, sweat droplets running down his forehead as his heartbeat didn't cease.

_Bitter honey._ Robb cleaned his mouth quickly with the back of his hand and looked away. 

“...do... Robb.” , Theon's voice hesitated, his hands tending towards him.

And Robb moved up, reaching for him and Theon pulled him close and kissed him deep, mouths open to welcome, open to eat, and they drowned in each other again, in the flavour Theon had and Robb craved, in that moment that vibrated imperceptibly, drenched in edacious, gorging hunger, for more.

Robb swallowed, parting from the kiss and staring at Theon again.

And Theon moved his head slightly back, as to contemplate him, to stare at him, as to take it in, the reality, the fact the touch had existed and was his and how much he craved it.

And Robb let out a weak, lopsided smile.

_I've been dying for you all this time._ Robb kissed him again, catching Theon’s mouth in his own. Before  _I even knew you existed, starving for you, greedy and eager beyond control and binging on someone else, sure you couldn’t have existed._

Theon moaned into the kiss, pulling away just to groan.

“Fuck me.”

 

11\. THEON

 

_Fuck him away._

_Give me my catharsis, my body again – wash out all of him, his ghost hands, his ghost tongue, his ghost words. I feel the film of his sticky memory haunting and suffocating my skin, thick as plastic._

“Are you sure?”

_Hurt me._

_Let me stop feeling anything._

_For a moment, just for a moment alone. If we stop this he will return, I can't do this, not anymore, not anymore._

A nod, a tremble, “I want you.”

And Robb smiled in a way that made Theon's stomach clench and twist. He looked so happy.

As if he couldn't have heard anything better.

_You don't get how rotten I am, do you? How in the putrescence you're going to fall just by touching me?_

Robb grabbed a big jar of Vaseline from Theon's bed stand and sunk his fingers into it, pouring it abundantly. It was thicker than Theon remembered, and it felt almost warmer.

Robb kissed his soft ass, the tender skin around it, his lips drawing fire with every touch.

One finger.

_Please, please, be quick... I don't want him back. Oh, but I'm always with you. Please, please, no. Because you want it, don't you? You disgusting faggot slut. You need me, you need me so much. Go away, go away. You're so empty, you need to be filled up._

Theon bit his lips, suffocating a moan of bliss and a sob all at the same moment – as pleasure rushed through his nerves and sadness stained his mind. Electricity rode the water.

Another finger, Theon arched, moaning, sucking Robb in.

_Do you even care about him? Yes. Do you? Wouldn’t you fuck just about anything right now? No. No? You sure? Wouldn't you fuck your beloved, sweet uncle? Stop._

A third finger, and they bent in, twisting inside, hitting his prostate, pressing on it. Theon shivered, feeling the smile on Robb's lips cut through the night and bliss hardening in his cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ...”, he whispered out, his hips pushing towards Robb's fingers, searching for them, swallowing them up to the knuckles.

_Fucking whore. Do you ever miss your uncle's cock? Shut up. Shut up. Do you miss mine? You sure won't miss this nail, will you? You don't need to scratch me, kitten._

_I should pull all of them out._

Robb's hand on his cheek.

“Theon?”

Theon blinked, realizing only then, from the cold sting, that his eyes were pooling with tears.

“I .. - he could feel the strain and the arousal tight in Robb's voice, how hoarse it was, and his eyes slid down to see how big he looked, so red and hard – Are you here?”

Theon nodded, slowly. His lips quivered.

“It's... just...”, he tried to speak.

_Tell him. Tell him about me, about your beloved Ramsay. He will never believe you anyway. Nobody would ever think someone would want you so bad._

A tear drew a shallow, salty trench on Theon's cheek. He smirked, and the corners of his mouth trembled.

“...it's been so long.”

Robb smiled and kissed his forehead, softly, petting his hair gently.

“I'll be slow then.”

Theon shook his head, “I... I want the opposite.”

Robb frowned, “Rough and fast?”

_Do I deserve it any other way? Good, you're understanding what you're made for: just being fucked and bred with until all of you hurts. And then again. Please, go away. Get out of my head. Oh, but I belong here. Go away._

“Break me.”

Robb's glance hesitated on Theon's lips, his skin, the glistering, tired moonlight staining him azure.

His hands pressed on Theon's hips, pulling him closer.

Violent greed shone in his blue eyes, the hunger of a wolf, trying to behave, with a collar tight around his neck.

“Devour me.”

And Robb thrust in.

Theon shouted, scooted, arched. His fingers clenched the sheets, white splashed across his knuckles, veins showing, bones gripping. Theon panted, eyes big with tears.

_Fuck. Fuck, he's big._

But Robb smiled and kissed, honeyed, frenzied, Theon's neck and jaw, before returning to thrust, slower, inch by inch, pounding in. Theon rolled his eyes to the ceiling, pleasure making him twitch, his head now dizzy, controlled by craving and his legs shivering.

Theon bit his lips, muffling whines.

Robb's cock thrust in, slamming, hungry and angry, widening Theon’s ass, devouring and tearing it.

And it felt so absolute and total, Theon threw his head back and welcomed in all of him.

The girth pulled him apart, desire made him whole again.

Theon panted, cried, moaned, arched, sitting up just to get closer to Robb, holding onto him, face in the crook of his neck, hands grasping on his back and nails sinking into his flesh, leaving red trails. He could feel his ass thunderstruck with any push, his prostate hammered, his whole body shaking in need.

_More, more, more._

_More._

_Of you, just of you._

“God. - he bit his own lips and then Robb's shoulders, his teeth cutting the skin, moans so high Robb almost felt them echoing inside him, lustful and wet – More, fuck...”

_Theon, Theon. It feels so good inside of you._

_Open your mouth, let me pour something into it._

_You're not afraid of rats, are you?_

_No, no, not now, not now._

His cock twitched through the orgasm that was about to wash over him and Robb drilled into him, aiming at his sweet spot, destroying it, thrusting so hard, Theon was sure he could faint from it.

“Fuck...”,

Robb's voice was getting murkier, turbid.

And he grabbed Theon's hips tighter with one hand and his face with the other, kissing him again, all open-mouthed and insatiable – yearning, aching with the fever, longing making him carnal and rough. Voracious thirst drummed through his ears and made his pulse squeeze his mind foolish and blank.

Theon felt the taste of his own blood dragged from his lips by Robb's teeth, and the flavour of his own longing ecstasy shook him open, as Robb pushed through his prostate again, slamming into it, mercilessly precise.

Theon chocked on a cry and came again.

His mind felt dizzy. The shadows seemed to be leaving, somehow.

He shivered, feeling Robb still inside, hard, thrusting into his raw, oversensitive flesh, shoving himself in, splitting him.

Theon bit his own hand.

He couldn't think anymore.

_White, white, white, flashes of all and nothing, thunder, gas and astounded silence._

His whole body was alive. He could feel it all, raising from the tomb of numbness it had lingered in before.

And the pain turned into pins, needles, impulse and fire.  _White all-consuming fire._

Desire staggered him, and he started moving his hips, riding Robb through his orgasm, craving him, needing him, him all – the plunge, the girth, the rapture.

His ass swallowed Robb's come. And the air swallowed his grunts and low, dark groans, as he pushed, dragging his orgasm out, spending himself inside the red, overstimulated walls, before almost fainting onto Theon, into his arms, blissful in completion.

Theon kissed his forehead, keeping him between his arms.

And he too closed his eyes, falling asleep.

Soundly.

 

12\. BRIENNE

 

Jaime held her tight, one hand on the waist and one on the back, keeping her close.

Brienne smiled, bringing his face close, pulling him in for a kiss. He smiled too, feeling hers, and he opened his mouth, letting her in, allowing her to set a rhythm and guide him.

Brienne's hands then grabbed his hips, pulling him close and she started moving her tongue, leading the kiss, until she felt Jaime's legs jiggle and his jeans swollen against her flesh, as their crotches brushed.

His long hair tickled her face, his stubble scratched it tenderly. She closed her eyes and let the warmth guide her hands.

Jaime was less strong than her, but, more than anything, he was being pliable and malleable under her touch and moves.

She admitted it was a weird thrill, dark, deep.

Having him trust her so, having him letting her gain control.

Her cheeks hurt from how long, how deep they were kissing, Jaime letting her invade, her filling him, and she felt her heart burn all over. He felt so real, so true against her.

_Not a dream, not a fantasy, not a moment of weakness that leads to wishful thinking._ He was real and there and kissing her with devoted obedience.

Lost in her.

Someone could, then, after all, want to get lost in her.

As she broke the kiss, Jaime's lips quivered and he moved slightly forward, lips so wet, searching for more.

It struck her heart open.

His eyes on her gleamed, green machetes tearing her to pieces.

Her cheeks flushed, more from the heat, the need, the craving than any embarrassment. There was no need to shield herself for the sake of purity from someone like Jaime.

“Flatfoot. - he snarked – This is the part where, usually, you introduce a man to your bed.”

She sucked her lips, and nodded, pulling him in by the shirt.

Her room was even more sober than the living room: a big bed, dark blue sheets, just the strict necessities. Not a mirror in sight.

Jaime frowned, noticing it.

She let him go and he let himself fall back on the bed, opening his arms like an angel in the snow and whispering, ecstatic.  _“God, you're real”._

She furrowed her eyebrows, sure she had understood wrong.

Jaime raised himself on his elbows slightly, his cock already evidently hard in his pants, his shirt half undone, some buttons missing from Brienne's pulling – which, admittedly, just made him all the more aroused – and he stared at her, enchanted. And Brienne was not sure why.

Wanting something and liking it, she knew, were fairly different concepts in practical matters.

“Do I turn off the light?”, she asked.

“No? - Jaime almost scoffed – Why would you?”

“I mean...”

“I want to see you, I’ve drea... - he shut up, swallowed, catching himself in time – Please.”

She nodded, undoing slowly the blouse, from which the nipples perked already, little, tense buttons against the soft fabric, and let it fall on the ground, showing her breasts. They looked so soft, Jaime swallowed a dry gulp to avoid sucking his lips, staring at them – champagne coupe sized, made to be drank. Not the breasts of a goddess, but the ones of an amazon.

Brienne lowered her eyes, unable to fight away the hint of a smile that stained her lips as she saw such an utterly speechless reaction. Her hands slipped down her hips and unzipped her long, high-waisted pants, making them drop slowly too.

Jaime couldn't keep in a whistle. Her legs went on for miles.

He couldn't help but imagine them at the sides of his face, as she would sit on him and baptize his mouth with her honeyed dew.

Brienne pulled down also the slip – it was surely not the type of underwear Jamie must have been used to seeing on women, she imagined his exes in lacy lingerie, while she picked the most comfortable, largest, most containing pair of black slips the market could produce, but he didn't seem to mind – and, as she pulled them down, she saw him gulping and let out a strangled groan. His cock looked plainly neglected, then, with his jeans struggling to keep it down.

And a weird thrill took over Brienne again.

She smiled, and looked at him, “Maybe we should undress you too.”

Jaime smiled and moved to unzip his jeans, panting, needing her. And her arms caressed him and pulled his shirt totally tore.

Jaime blinked, unable to lie about how it made him feel.

Her strength, her command – a tender, kind one.

No violence in her authority.

And, he dared to think, maybe he could...

“Would you... pin my arms up?”

Brienne blinked, but a little smile came to her face, “Can I... tie them?”

When she saw Jaime's eyes widen, she bit her lips, mortified.

“Too much?”

“... absolutely not.”, he admitted, struck.

She smiled and then let out a small laugh of relief, while pulling Jaime's arms up and, with his own shirt, tying his hands together above his head. As she did, Jaime was staring at her blond bush, the color of sunlight, promising the sweetest droplets.

He moved forward, as he could anyway, and kissed her thighs, gently, making Bienne smile again and shiver. He kissed slowly her thigh, moving as if to make a trail to her cunt, and she moved, more above him, uncertain in her movements, checking where to put her hands, but made daring by the harmony they met so soon.

He sucked softly the tenderest flesh of her inner thigh, her skin was taken over by trembles and shivers. She squirmed above him, sucking her lips, as heat flushed and washed through her, leaving her without words.

Just little, low moans.

And her eyes frowned shut by pleasure.

Jaime smiled against her cunt, kissing it, letting his tongue twitch and tease her pearl.

She couldn't contain a gasp, and one of her hands went to the wall, to keep herself up, while her body just begged to lower onto Jaime even more.

His nose against her felt hot and good, and the scorching way he stared at her... licking her with utmost, absolute crave.

He licked her, sinking his tongue into the soft slit of her pulsing cunt, tasting the delight of her juice and the pleasure riding her trembling thighs. His hands pressed her closer, right before his tongue twisted and lapped her clit, making her arch and suffocate a moan.

Brienne's skin shivered, droplets of sweat running down her neck, her head thrown back, her legs burning with heat, while Jaime sucked and licked her tip, making her squirm and scream.

His hands gripped her flesh so strong, as if, had her thighs escaped him, he would have lost everything.

And he lapped and ate her like she was ambrosia.

She rode her need, moving over him, moaning, louder and louder, arching as his tongue let her clit swell and melt, sparks of bliss making her hips writhe and her craving harder, bigger.

She closed her eyes, getting lost in the sensation as it pierced through her.

It pulled, pushed, pulsed – as if her clit needed to shoot out, and there was nothing but pleasure, melting her away, unravelling her in bliss.

Appetite drove her nerves alight.

“God...”, she whispered.

Jaime raised his eyebrows as to say “flatterer” and she smiled at that too, moving her hips, while his tongue again licked her with infinite yearning and ferocious relish.

She could feel her tongue stick out, hot, as she panted, moaned, and leaned forward, leaning almost completely on the wall. She fell silent, from her mouth nothing but lips quivering.

Jaime's stubble rubbed against her inner thigh, while his mouth took all over. She felt pleasure dragged out of her, heat pooling and making her mind dizzy.

And the verge, it rose through her like a tide of pure bliss, fire leaping from her, and hit her at once.

She then found air again and breathed out, loud, ungraceful, dazed.

Jaime was still on her and she had to welp out “Sto...stop, please” as he tormented her now oversensitive, raw clit, pulsing red with afterglow.

She raised herself just enough and he licked her lips, sucking them, then licking her dripped juices off. The sweetest taste invaded him and the sight made her need him more again.

 

13\. THEON

 

_Open your eyes, do you see anything? The numb sound of earth, it crumbles all over him. The wet, disgustingly sweet scent of water through the jute bag. Please, stop. I don't have any info, please, let me go! Which one do you like less, tell me? No, please. Please. You have pretty piano fingers. C'mon, Theon, play with me, dear. You're so talented, you'll be such a good pianist one day. You're so talented, one can see you were born for this, whore. Look at his ass, it's clenching. Close your eyes, clamp your mouth, shut your mind. He can't come in, he can't come in. The whistle, the whistle, that fucking whistle that cracks through the sky. Such a perfectly wounded sky. It's so hard it will pierce the eardrum. Please, just, drop a bomb here. Kill me, let me die. Let me die while I have still a piece of myself, before I spill out all of my mind. Oh, baby, all you're gonna spill you're going to lick from the floor. Be a good whore and drink my piss. Does it taste good? Answer me. Please, please, whistle. You're so close, why do you go far away? Just drop here. The chains cut through the ankles, they're going to get infected. Please, don't make them rot too. Your ass is so loose by now... look at it, the gates of America. Stop, stop. Stop. You disgusting faggot slut. Look at you, you're made for this. Rodrik, RODRIK. RODRIK, help. Help me. Help me, please. I won't tell dad this time, I promise, I promise. You're no virgin, are you? You seem to clench onto it. Whistle, whistle, just blow my guts up. Theon, mom loves you a lot.... how are my ants? Do they feel good? Bamboo is made to cut through the flesh so well. Maybe I should put that up your ass. If you vomit again, you'll have to lick it off the ground, you filthy whore, drink me. Mom, mo- Rod, Asha, someone. It burns, it hurts. Uncle Euron, please, stop. Call me by my name. Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay. And what are you?_

_Weak._

_Weak._

_Weak._

_A clash on the teeth, they rolled out, he felt warm, warm in his mouth, thick yet impalpable, and it almost tasted sweet too, the bitter hit later. It hurts, it hurts. The whistles growl under the sky. It tears him apart. Rodrik. The rain, the rush under it, the haste to go home, the laughs. When did we stop smiling to each other? When did those times rush off? Thorns, thorns of rain, thorns of memories, thorns of flesh. Good. Do you know what happens if you put a live mouse under a bucket over your stomach? It will find a way out. It will dig another hole into you, into your fucking useless guts, and then I'll fuck you there too. I'll hang you and choke you with your own intestines and come all over into your ratpussy. Please, please, just let me die... You'll never die, baby, you're ,flkm- flfame flame – gglm you'r.e.defjnetelfinitelyfin fin finf du du do you – You're my favourite nephew, Theon, d-did-didid-did you know that? The mouse wiggled in his mouth. Wet. Slimy. Come, come, come. Alive. Cover me. You're alive. I'm not. He puked. Vomit gushing out of his lips, they burned. Fire, fire through the cuts. His mouth was in the mud, thick and dear, filling his nostrils, no air, not light. The whistle grows, the whistle grows, - you're a disgrace, you're a shame – why did you come back? - There is no justice in the world. Din, din, din all over, drums that make the heart tear from inside. Rodrik's guts in the river. Blood. Mud. Bamboo. Blood. The rat, the rat. He chopped the head off. How nietzchean! Moving! Clap, clap for the whore. A slap, another. You can't even swallow well. Eat the raw rat now, baby. Or I'll cut your finger. No. I will. I will. Please. Rodrik. Rodrik's bottles in the room. Rodrik yelling. His hand swollen as he kicked a door and blood gushed out. No, No, please, you said if I did it, you wouldn't have. Oh, did I? I don't understand, I don't understand what you're saying. I'll always be inside you. I'll always find a way through the cracks. Blood, black blood, the colour of puked wine._

_Theon? TheonTheonTheon._

_Whoa, you sure reek now._

He opened his eyes fast, and felt a migraine pierce through them.

He swallowed, dry, bitter, the taste of being alive.

He breathed in but the air got choked by a thin, scratched sniffle. His eyes stung.

And burned. He couldn’t move at first, not from the throat down, he was stiff in the position he was supposed to b- oh, right. He shook his head and rose.

He could see.

No wet, jute bag on his face. No water down his throat. No earth moist and full of worms around him.

He was safe. In his bed.

He chuckled, metallic. Maybe if he repeated it all the time, one day, he would have even started believing that lie. Iron in his mouth. He spit on the side of the bed.

Then he ruffled his hair and they pulled and they hurt, all knotted together... as if. Right.

But Robb was not there, next to him.

He had left too, like everything.  _Maybe it's better so._

_People are pills. You shouldn't count on them for more than the time of their effect to feel better, right?_

_Are you the pill I take to avoid myself?_

_Am I the pill you took to stop your boredom?_

_Are you the pill I take to avoid puking?_

_Am I the pill you take to … ? Will I even ever know._

Theon sighed, pressing on his eyes, breathing in and out, and then he extended his hand to the nightstand, to grab his packet of Marlboros and take a long drag.

Except, his finger brushed the void.

His packet was not there.

Nor the lighter.

He tried to, but couldn't stop a smile pulling the corners of his mouth up, in a puerile, silly, fragile joy.

He smiled again as he heard the water from the shower clashing against the ground, slapping it in cold. It was almost a lullaby.

He smiled, closed his eyes against the pillow and the fabric, soft against his skin seemed to ask him to try and sleep longer. He fell into the arms of the gentle peace, as the tenderest rain started to pour outside, transparent as all fragile things, _liquid glass turning into music._ He felt next to him Robb's warm body returning and his hands circling him, shielding him all over.  _It rained also that day._

And, as he closed his eyes, he saw an empty void that didn't smell like mud and swamp.

For once.

He breathed out, “You'll have to go soon, won’t you?”

Robb's throat clenched in a dry gulp.

“I'm afraid so. - he admitted, his lips quivered – I should have left before morning, but I couldn't bring myself to.”

Theon chuckled, then rested his head on Robb's chest, caressing the auburn, curly hair, connecting together constellations of freckles.  _Andromeda with her hands chained and her navel open, blue and yellow melting in the pink of her galaxy. Perseus grabs her hand to pull her close, but they never melt for real. Tends but never reaches. The void always stretches between them, doesn't it?_

“You're quite a selfish husband...”, he commented, low, maybe angry, mostly tired.

Robb let out a smile, sour but not bitter, and breathed out.

“I am.”

Theon sighed, brushing his fingertips over the perky, dark nipples.

“Why did you marry her.... if I can?”

Robb's eyelids moved slowly and he looked at the ceiling as if the void in between held answers.

“She thought... - he groaned, cleared his voice – I had sex with her hoping it would...”

“...convert you?”

“Ah-a. - he let out a chuckle – Should have known better, I know.”

“Even Freud did.”

“ _Excuse you_.”, he warned him, jokingly.

Theon raised his head and then rubbed against Robb's chest, “And then?”

“She got pregnant... or so she thought. She, I think she lost it, soon after.”

Theon's eyes squinted and then widened, “...why don't you divorce?”

Robb shook his head, “No.”

“Why no?”

“For what?”

And Theon was not sure he had an answer.

“I... I’m not a believer anymore, but she is deeply catholic, so are our families, I... - he breathed in – I can't do that to her. Especially when it's not like, I...”

His voice dropped, stopped and his eyes fell on Theon. Theon felt them, sinking into him, penetrating the skin, magnetic.

Theon's hand caressed his chest.

“I guess, one can't always escape from all he is. - Theon mumbled – Not even a doctor.”

“The mind is... powerful and terrible. - Robb chuckled, his glance caressing Theon, his hand moving under the blankets, to find his length again and brush over it, inviting, tempting – But, Theon, _l'enfer, c'est les autres_.”

Theon smirked, moving closer for a kiss.

On the verge of Robb's lips, he whispered, “Doctor,  _l'enfer, c'est nous-mêmes_ .”

He grabbed him for a kiss, catching his mouth. Foolish and eager.

Because he too needed hell to shut up for a while.

 

14\. JAIME

 

She mounted off his face, panting, staring at him with lovestruck awe.

Jaime smirked, of course.

“You're welcome.”

She couldn't manage to hide the smile behind a justified annoyance, “Idiot.”

Jaime sucked his lips more, grinning, rubbing his teeth and tongue on them, “You taste good.”

Brienne blinked, smiling, “Th...thank you.”

Then she looked at the shirt and his hands moving freely, and observed, “You tore it, though.”

“Oh. - Jamie noticed, he was used to way more resistant materials, after all – I... really wanted to grab your legs.”

“Flatterer.”, she said, shaking her head.

“Was it flattery? - he asked, joking, with a playful gleam in his eyes – You moved so much, I had to follow your clit around like a lovesick schoolgirl.”

Brienne raised her eyebrows, “You seemed to enjoy me moving, before.”

“Oh, well, I do.”

Her glance fell on his cock, and his underwear, with a little damp stain of precum asking for her attention. She stared a bit.

“You... don't have to. - Jaime said – Give it back, I mean.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

_She never did._

_Then again, she also didn't taste as good as you._

_And sometimes I would lie to myself and think she did, while swallowing her, love would mix the sugar in – and the bitter aftertaste, thickened by her sour words, that I was sure I wasn’t making up._

The eye she had bruised the last time they had met pulsed. His cheek, that she had cut with a dish, burnt.

He wondered if they would burn forever, if when the scabs and blood would have gone, it would have been shame to hold the torch. To never allow him to forget.

“ _Are you going to leave?” “Never ever.” “Promise? You won't be like mom?” “I promise.”_

“ _Then it's forever.”_

“ _You can't leave! You can't leave me! You promised!” But I – “You're just like everyone else!” But I – “Everyone just leaves me!” But I – “You just can't bear me because I'm too much for you.” But I – “Without me, you're nothing.” But I – “You said forever. I knew I couldn't believe you. You lied since the start, since the start, you are unable to do anything. You're worthless.” But … do I exist?_

_Her tears, her screams. I never meant to make her like that._

“ _...I won't go. I promised, didn't I?”_

_Where is the space for me with you?_

_Where was I?_

“Jaime?”, Brienne called.

Jaime nodded, weakly. He knew he was crying, he felt the tears pooling at the sides of his eyes.

“I'm sorry.”

She caressed his face, “Are you feeling bad?”

He shook his head.

I feel happy. And it's new, and it's heavy, and it's scary. It breaks my ribs. It hurts.

It fills me too much.

“Quite the opposite.”

She smiled so sweetly, he felt the need to add something to tease her and see her frown.

“It's not just a gun - the one in my pants.”

Brienne rose her eyes to the ceiling and fakely sighed, before bending and turning towards his shaft. Brienne swallowed dry, trying to decide how to approach it.

She, of course, knew the theory, but in practice, it felt different.

She spit on her hand and started rubbing it, from the base up, slowly. Jaime bit his lips and let his head rest on the pillow.

“I see... - he chuckled – You're one of those who like to torture.”

That struck her a bit, so she opened her mouth, as big as she could and lowered it on the head of Jaime's cock.

“Oh fuck.”, he let out, throwing his head back even more, pressing it against the pillow.

It tasted good, which surprised her, but what tasted better was Jaime.

His reaction, his shivers, his cursing, the delicious way he whimpered and writhed, his thighs trembling, his hips bucking slightly, desperate.

And his voice... his voice. Jaime had to mute himself by biting his hand but she could hear him.

He was begging under his breath.

She felt a rush of power run through her, making her drunk. He sank under her control, moaning, louder each time. She felt his come on her tongue, salty like sea foam, and it made her pressure turn to fire at the idea of him spilling for her, needing her.

He was so utterly vulnerable as she sheathed his cock deep, sucking the tip, circling the collar, licking its pulsing slit.

Jaime trembled, whined.

“God, Bri...”

She tried to relax her jaw and lower herself more, to take him all in. She felt she liked the pulling, the pressure, and loved the taste, but soon she felt it was too much, almost clogging her breath as, when Jaime jerked his hips, thrusting into her, she almost gagged, letting it slip out and panting, tears in her eyes.

Jaime blinked, “I'm sor-”

Her tongue was on it again, soft, wet flame of desire.

And he twitched, begged her, his voice rising up.

She kept moving her hand at the base, while sucking him, letting her lips wipe and rub the head, her tongue tease him mad.

“Move away. - he warned her – I'm close.”

She gave him a look as if he had said the silliest thing.

“ _Do you have to come on me? Can't you just finish yourself off at the other side of the bed?” “Look at the mess you’ve made on my boobs...” “It's so dirty, a man’s come really is good only for impregnation, isn't it?” “Drink me.” “Gross.” “Drink me, Jaime.” “Jaime, you're so gross.” “Just finish yourself off when I'm gone.”_

“It's gros-”, he tried to object.

But she moved her mouth and took him in again. Not all, this time she knew, but enough, and sucked hard, while he bucked and moaned, moving his hips erratically, desperate – irresistible heat running through his spine.

Red thunders seized him as her scorching tongue touched him again.

And he came against the back of her throat, arching and begging, curling his toes.

_You're not with her. You're safe now. She won't hurt you._

Brienne coughed slightly, cleared her throat and looked at him, curious, almost... shy.

“How... was it?”

_She never would._

Jaime felt his cheek burn slightly.

And he let out an embarrassed grin, “I mean... in your opinion?”

She hesitated, letting out a low, groaned sound.

Jaime blinked, realizing. “Wait... really?”

Brienne nodded.

“Oh fuck. - he stood up – Had I known, I...”

“I'm not a blushing maiden, Jaime! - she scolded him, clearly more awkward for having to state that than for anything else – It's not like I’d never thought about it before today.”

Jaime seemed to accept that, though another awareness sank deep into his heart. And, like a damn cat, seeing the occasion to be a little shit, he acted upon it.

“... with me too?”, he asked, smug.

“Don't try your luck, Jaime Lannister.”, she warned him, then grabbed him by the back of his head and possessed him in a deep kiss.

 

15\. THE LOVEBIRDS

 

“Hey– ”

He looked at her, almost feeling sorry.  _It would be easier to, if I didn't hate you, instead, I just feel guilt, thick, dense guilt. Tar guilt for a tar-coated heart._

She was playing with her own hands, nervously, sitting on the kitchen table. She didn't raise up her eyes to look at him; she didn't need to.

She wore a weak, fake smile, she had worn it before, every time the truth came too close and she felt the dull, big head of verity push through her, readying to take her from behind.

Her little smile didn't falter, plastic and stucco.

And a tiny veil of a lipstick.

She had such white teeth, all perfect, all lined up – no tilt, no miss, no crook. She was so lawful and straight and squared, like they drew her to point out each of his flaws.

And he hated that.

“Hello. - she said, and her chirpy voice trembled, so fragile, ready to shatter at any moment – Do you want something specific for lunch?”

Robb sucked his lips, feeling the burn twist his stomach with iron.

“Don't you want to ask where I was?”, he asked, almost provocative, with poison spilling in his veins.

_Why doesn't she ask? Does she know? Does she hate to? Or does she think I’m fucking another woman?_

“I'm supposing you drank again. - she said, her voice harsher than he had imagined it would be – And fell asleep... somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?”, he almost snorted.

Jeyne sucked her lips. Pins and needles trembled on her nerves.

“What's the sense in behaving like this?”, she asked in a whisper.

And Robb sighed, shaking his head, moving closer to her and holding her by the waist.  _Theon's waist... it's wider, sharper._

_Should I miss it, already? Miss him? Miss a boy who felt right, too right?_

_And somehow more, not just the body, but something in the way it shivered... synchronized with my heart._

He swallowed, slowly, “I'm sorry, I'm being unnecessarily confrontational.”

She looked at him and shook her head, softly.

She held onto him and kissed his eyelids gently, her lips lingering on his closed shields.

“I missed you... - her voice was nightingales and baby grass, but it tasted like nothing and it had the same shallow, liquefied density of forgettable rain – Were you at Jon's grave?”

Robb looked away. His lips looked dry as he bit them to the pulp.

He moved away, his hands leaving her.

“I have to go to the clinic. - he told her, abruptly – I'll go as I return, tonight.”

Jeyne stared at him with a stormed up heart.

There was a care she felt and wanted to bring him, to caress and hold him with, and anger and despair, crawling from the dark, creeping from suspicion and from pain, from the solitude inflicted by indifference and coldness.

She knew, though, she had to accept how he had changed and the time he may have needed.

But not all glass reflects shine with purity, and in the back of his studio at home, brown and green bottles started to group up. He'd put them in drawers, in the wooden ottoman, in the shadows.

But she'd find them and play with them, moving them in her hands, wondering what she was supposed to say.

The worm of guilt ate her stomach like an apple.

And her empty womb seemed to clench her, to scratch and shriek from inside, whispering to her, in the thinnest voice, about how alone they were under the same roof.

But how to say, how to speak, how to find him beyond the glass he had put between them.

How to ask where Jon started, where the world ended, which were the lines drawn over the corpses of their half-alive wedding?  _And why?_ Why did his dead brother weight more to him than his living wife?

Grudge pulsed in her, tore her, it made her bitter and tired.

She was alive, yet invisible. Tied.

Just a thing, existing, next to him, as he went on with feelings he didn't share.

_Why would he? After what you did?_

She stiffened.

“We can go together. - she said – I'll be there when you arrive.”

“You don't know how many clients I have today.”

“Tell me, then.”

Robb shook his head, “I'll go.”

Words burnt her tongue and she spilled them, anger making her daring, “Are you going with someone else?”

Robb looked at her, surprised, but not offended. Hurt, perhaps. In that way he hurt in which he would seem angry, his open, swollen lips quivering, his eyebrows frowned, and no words in sight.

“Are you implying something?”

“Can't I come too to cry for him? To pray? - she asked, holding her hands so hard she squeezed them until it hurt – He was my brother in law, after all, I loved him as you do.”

“No, you didn't. - Robb roared, low – You, all of you, just... you never bothered to help him.”

“Jon was... tormented. But this doesn't-”

“Jon was depressed, Jeyne. - he shouted, impetuous – And suicidal and he blew his brains out because nobody in this goddamn family tried to help him, except me, but I can't do everything on my fucking own.”

The slap resounded flat and dry, echoing sharp.

Her hand burnt and trembled like the flames that took over her mind.

They made her head foggy and acute, pain pierced it like metal, but she couldn't focus on anything. And her breath was bitter as it came back in her mouth, like tides of memories.

And, as it hit her, the realization, she blinked and stared at the void and found herself.

The deep liberation, the elation and horror dancing together, stinging under her skin.

“I'm sorry.”, she lied, trembling, ashamed of herself.

Robb licked his lips, his hand moving to the skin. He flinched touching the red print of Jeyne's hand.

Bitterness rested in his mouth.

_It feels good, doesn’t it? To be an animal?_

“I have to go.”

Jeyne grabbed his arm, pulling him close. She wanted to say, to let out something, but somehow, her lips just quivered and no empty promise came out.

_What do you want now? Me to change? I want it more than you ever will._

_But cold, violet flames burnt me to the ground yesterday._

_And now I am a creature of lust and dust and greedy, tearing holes in my soul._

Robb's eyes for the first time felt as cold as ice. And Jeyne gulped down, lowering her own.

“Please, don't go.”

“It's a cemetery, Jey. - Robb said, trying to use at least a tone that would hint a lie, but tenderness transpired from the red, pulsing mark on his face – Nothing will happen.”

She clenched her hands around the fabric of her skirt, twisting it, retorting it as tightly as a hanging knot.

_Who is she? Won't you just tell me already? Don't let me go insane._

As he opened the door, though, Robb felt the pang of guilt. His hand was on the doorknob, his foot almost out, as he remembered his duties, the things family meant – through good and bad, health and... nausea.

He turned to Jeyne and sighed, “I love you, Jey. - he murmured, so softly that for a moment he also believed himself, and she smiled sweetly, staring at him with watery eyes – I'll... I won't be like this forever.”

_I'm sorry._

_Lies accumulate into a mountain and they tie me around my neck. They carve a ravine in my breath._

_Theon, in an ideal world, I could tell you about Theon._

And he left, as she waved at him.

 

16\. THEON

 

_You're so sweet. It's such a shame to ruin such a pretty face. Do you want to play a game … a deal, if you want to call it that. And then I'll let you go. One just one thing. Theon, baby boy, come in, please, it's getting cold outside. Theon, you're a disaster, you keep losing – wimpy. Th... A whimper, a breathless whisper from his teeth, trapped, about to exit, as the eyes lost their light. Bones, bones smooth and shiny, licked by mud and rain and blood dripping from them. Theon, you really love the red crayon. It's the most colorful. Rodrik's intestines like a ribbon, unraveled, down in the waters. His little baby hand coloring the water all red. So colorful. Good job, Theon. Just a simple deal, you'll enjoy it. But you have to beg me to take it. What? Theon, uncle Euron will babysit you today, while I bring Maron and Asha to football practice. Beg me, whore. No, no, you said that- no. No. Please, Theon, remember not to bother Rodrik, he has to really study not to fail this year, okay, baby? Please, please, no. Oh, you're so wide. And you drip blood so well. How wet. My whore. My beautiful nephew. You look almost like a girl. You're such a pussy, you're made for this. Stop, stop, stop. You said you would have freed me. Run, run, run, ankles twist and turn and break. A sharp stone hit near the eye, falling, falling. London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady. A stone over his face, over and over. You don't need all your teeth, do you? Build it up with sticks and stones. Sticks and stones. Let's have some fun with your nails. Oh, the bamboo likes you so much. Is it hard enough up your ass, honey? London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. Theon, why do you keep screaming? What's going on? Rodrik Rodrik Rodrik. The crayons, all the crayons on the_ _ground. His red crayon so lonely on the blue floor. So alone. It rolled further than all the others. You promised to let me go, you promised, we had a deal. Did we? Rodrik, Rodrik. T....h... and the wh_ _isper of the wind, thin, thin, thin, as it disappears, and the blotching din dim sound of organs sinking in the mud. Thick, thick, thick. Tic, tic, tic. Count how many drops of blood you're losing. With me, c'mon. Count or I'll take a fucking finger. Do you need your thumb? Build it up with wood and clay, build it up with wood and clay... You're such a good whore, if you just let me. You'd be such a good pet. A good doll for me to play with. My beautiful, reeking whore. Theon, do you really want that? That's Asha's toy, not yours. Theon, Theon, don't cry. He's a fag, mom. Red, red, red little crayon rolling away. You're so soft, Theon, you are made for me. Intestines melting away. The planes screamed and bellowed and the cry cut through the sky, round and swollen. But he felt empty and empty. And the taste of blood filled his mouth and his hollow gums pulsed and filled his mouth more. You look skinny, Theon. You should probably eat something more. How many days has it been since you're not getting real food? London Bridge is falling down, falling down.... build it up with bones and flesh. Bones and Flesh. Bones and Flesh. Here, have this meat. It's not fresh, but it's all you deserve. Dog food for my bitch. His mouth filled with puke at the scent. Blood and puke and he threw up on the floor – his stomach burning from the gastric fire that tore him apart from inside. TheonTheonTheon, bad bitch, be good and eat your food. What is it? You don't like the bugs? I'll take them away for a toe. It's a small price, isn't it? My weak thing. Theon, you know your father doesn't mean that. What? Are you sad I'm not asking to fuck you? Do you miss my cock? No, no. Oh you do, how cute. No. Your father loves you. Uncle loves you a lot, Theon, you're so soft. How is the meat? Do you like it, chug it down, chug it, be good. Be good. No, don't puke it. It would be so impolite of you. Your friend deserves surely a bit of kindn... oh, what's that face? Maybe I should put all of it into your mouth and gag you, hm? So you can taste it slowly while I fuck you. Red, red, red. So colorful. It's happy, it's happy. The color of strawberries and cherries and my favorite things. And Rodrik's guts, and his blood and his flesh mixed with the blood from my gums._

_Say my name. Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay._

Theon sat up and stared in front of him, sweating. His jaw was clenched so hard and tight that it hurt, his throat was iron.

He brought his hands to it, as his breath refused to go down. He felt hiccups growing, harder, sharper, push through his flesh.

His vertebrae hurt.

His eyes filled with tears. Panic, pure pulsing panic.

Theon looked at the room, over and over, as if the coordinates he had had disappeared and nothing made much sense all of sudden.

Or, better, all over again.

Finally, as he felt like he was going to pass out, his throat unclenched and he puked all over the bed. Mostly gastric juice, some food Robb had made for breakfast. Coke.

It burnt, his whole throat and mouth burnt like hell, and disgusting sour waves of acid fucked his mouth sore.

He coughed the bitterness away and forced himself to roll out of the thick blankets to reach the bathroom. He blacked out for a moment and risked falling on the ground, the strength in his legs abandoning him, but he forced himself to hold onto the wardrobe.

His equilibrium was getting fucked.

He didn't know if it was the lack of toes, the hallucinations, the pills, eating... shit, he hadn’t eaten since his last cereal bowl.

He felt stupid.

He rolled to the bathroom and stared at his own reflection: at the bags under his eyes, grey and purple, at the circles, the tired look, the trenches of restlessness. The burdened, amassed lack of sleep.

And he looked at his hickeys.

The purple, red, blooming marks. Gifts from the voracious mouth that craved him, him for himself and who he was.

Nothing else.

For a moment, he caressed the mirror.

And things could make sense, somehow, someway, with Robb.

Just with him, somehow.

_And it's so unhealthy to lean so on you. And yet, again, finally, I'm hungry._

_Can there be an unhealthy cure?_

 

17\. ROBB

 

Robb stared at the gravestone with grudge infecting his eyes and turning his heart livid.

He hated Jon for having left him behind. He hated himself, the most, to have allowed him to.

Jon died as soon as he received the news of his bestfriend, Samwell, dying in Vietnam – he had spent his last months volunteering at veteran centers, hoping somehow that the good of the world would have made the balance even and he would have got some joy. One, for once.

But the news arrived all the same.

And that night, with eyes so haunted they looked like they had been painted with pain, Jon shot his brains out.

Robb remembered still the way the wall was sprayed with red in thick and thin pieces splattered around. And he remembered the sound, that felt unreal and yet echoed through his guts and he could still feel it there at night.

He remembered still the exact moment he saw Jon's skull bend and crack open like a fruit.

Gory, but it didn't matter.

Jon had not been fine for a long time; he never had been, totally, absolutely fine. He had for years times in which he looked misplaced in the world, uncomfortably so. And there were months when his smiles were so thin they seemed like specters.

But since he had Samwell, it all went better.

He smiled fully and densely like the golden pulp of the midday sun.

It felt unreal losing that again, even for just a few hours, before forever.

Jon knew, of him.

He told him once, when they had been just a little more than kids, hiding his face behind freckled teen hands. And Jon just shrugged and said, “We're not in the forties anymore, it's going to be alright” .

It was not, in fact, going to be alright. But Robb appreciated the lie.

And the acceptance.

He never said it to anyone else before Jaime or... well, Jaime guessed on his own, so.

And Jon opposed the marriage with Jeyne with all his strength, ferociously, stubbornly; he was right too, of course, but Robb was too afraid of accepting it, too tempted by submitting to the norm, to the rigid, inflexible scheme society had put on him.

Damocles' beautiful sword.

And now? Jon was dead, splattered on the wall, and the last idea he had had of Robb was that he was a coward, unable to even stand up and refuse to be, in any way, a slave to society's expectations.

Robb was ashamed, ashamed that that was the last part of himself he had left Jon with.

Like a bad photograph, a poor last meal – the aftertaste would last for all of eternity. And it seemed like too big of a mistake for it not to be possible to fix.

But so it was, after all.

And then, then there was Theon. Theon who came into his life like a precipice on bliss. And like the fairytale of impossible happiness.

Robb sighed, thinking of it, finding himself naif and too greedy.

Robb put some flowers on Jon's grave – staring as the wind teased and tortured the rims of the thick, silky petals, as a distracted, sadistic lover. He wondered if Theon, if he would have liked Jon, if Jon would have had.

He was unsure.

_And you sang: sail to me, sail to me... let me enfold you. Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you..._

_Did I dream you dreamed about me?_

His knuckles trembled as he clenched his fist.

He knew he had to do something, to never see Theon again except in therapy – he should have given up also that, to be correct, but he didn't want to leave him without any support and... oh, but he needed to interrupt it then, to cut it.

Last night he had poured his whole heart out in one night.

It had never happened and it felt scary.

He felt his chest empty just because Theon was not around and he felt Theon calling him, like a siren to the waters.

He had his soul still, he must have had.

_Like a fool, I fell in love with you._

_You've turned my whole world upside down._

Robb let out a distressed, tired laugh, “Jon, it's all your fault. - a metallic chuckle – I keep thinking of him in songs.”

Jon used to say the same of Sam, that Sam couldn't be prose or chit-chat. That Sam was poetry, music.

Robb sighed, breathing slowly, wondering how deep it must have had cut.

Enough to want to splatter your brains against a wall with a magnum?

Apparently.

He had always wondered if it was all too quick or if Jon had had a second, a moment to think, to ask forgiveness to the god he had insisted believing in or to regret, to want to move, to not manage.

“For what it’s worth... I know you would have wanted to hear it.”

He sniffled, cleared his voice, coughed. He closed his eyes and sucked his lips. Wind spit coldness in his face.

He breathed in and his voice was hoarse and heavy, drenched in shame.

“You were right, about the wedding, you were totally right. - a brief laugh, the thought of Theon – I do regret it. Everything happened as you had predicted.”

He put his hands into the pockets of the coat and moved away, slowly.

_Let's make the best of the situation, before I finally go insane._

And, without even realizing exactly why, his legs moved towards the direction of Theon's place and he walked there, between naked, skinny trees and loud, dirty pavements.

His whole body felt like there was a need to go there, something ancestral, both physical and spiritual, each so intense and so rooted that the other seemed impossible to exist at the same time, and yet it did, intense and raw, both truths there on him, in him.

_Theon._

He had missed him since the moment he went out of that apartment, and he still hadn’t found a way of explaining how he missed him.

Not like how you miss a person, more like how you miss a part of yourself. A hand, a lung, a thought just escaped.

He missed him so deeply that it felt wrong. Profoundly.

And yet, there he was, at the end of the road, ringing the doorbell and leaning in, hands in the pockets of the coat, waiting for an answer, for Theon to open, to let him in.

There was vulgarity and sacrality in how much he craved him.

Theon didn't even comment at the doorbell, he just opened and he waited on the door, hands crossed, leaning on the doorstep with a little, smug smirk.

“Doctor Stark...”

“Robb.”, he corrected him, again.

Then let his grin grow wider and more wicked, naughty in its deepest root.

Hair like melted darkness. It rested as soft as silk on his shoulders...

“Robb.”, Theon repeated.

Robb smiled, moving closer, cutting the space between them, pushing Theon a couple of steps back.

“I missed you.”

“We met this morning.”, the tone was joking but it hid the most vulnerable, tender shade.

And Robb didn't miss it.

“I'm afraid you're quite addictive.”

Theon chuckled, shaking his head, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Robb's glance fell on Theon's lips. And on his quivers.

“Let me make it up to you for the outrage.”

Theon smirked, sucking his bottom lip slowly.

The scar on it emerged but he didn't seem to realize it, as he smiled, “Come in.”

 

 


	3. 3

18\. ROBB

 

Theon stretched. And he was a statue.

His skin was so pale and transparent it looked like marble, and the purple of his veins was so beautiful that for an instant Robb forgot how unhealthy it was to see them and the thin stems of his ribcage alike.

The bruises and bite-marks he had placed on him shone purple and red and beautiful like blooming flowers in the snow.

Robb found himself enchanted in ways he knew he was not supposed to be.

_He's a patient. And he's sick. His body shouldn't appear beautiful to you, when he feels so bad._

But there it came: the sweet awareness he had never found much of beauty in people like that, and he feared the answer.

It couldn't be... could it?

_No, infatuation. It's infatuation. It's a phase, an up, a push of hormones on the roof of my brain._

Theon laughed, then, deep and rooted in earth and as if he was free. It echoed so light and so red, Robb tasted sweetness in his mouth.

And then Theon sprung on the side, leaning on his hip with one swift swing.

He breathed out and smiled, “You're funny, you know?”

“I'm glad my corny jokes amuse you.”

Theon frowned, smiling still, caressing Robb's arm.

“You're weird, too.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don't get it... you're... all responsible and caring but also very reckless.”, he mumbled.

Robb let out a low groan. It did sound like him.

“And you're a therapist but your life choices are questionable at best.”, Theon proceeded.

Robb felt uncomfortably easily read and chuckled, nervously, “I also make some good ones.”

“I doubt.”

Robb glanced at Theon's fingers, twitching on the bed sheets. At the missing fingers, precisely.

If you can glance at the void, of course.

Robb seemed almost enchanted and hurt at the same time.

Theon was there, naked and real, still hot with their kisses and dirty with their come – and that, that seemed too good to be true.

But past horror lingered on his skin.

And it brewed anger in him.

The idea of Theon being hurt, torn, in pain, boiled in his veins and hardened them.

Limestone sedimented in the bed of his soul.

Robb gulped down, slowly, darkly.

“I should suggest you a new therapist.”

Theon shook his head. “I'm not going to change now.”

“It's not professional, if I... if we...”

_Please, don't tell me we need to stop. Please, don't tell me I can't touch you anymore._

_Please don't say, we'll never find a way and tell me all my love's in vain._

Theon frowned, “I don't think I can... trust anyone else, right now. - he seemed to realize how exposing what he had said was and, feeling naked, he lowered his look and avoided Robb's eyes – You're like me, in a way.”

Robb raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

Theon breathed in, trying to find words.

“Fucked up? - he frowned, then saw Robb smiling – But differently. I don't know, we're like... drops of oil in water.”

_We don't need a skin to part us from the world._

_Our own nature is skin, our own nature makes us wrong and extraneous._

Robb gulped dry, his Adam's apple dragging painfully.

“Do you think we're that alone?”

“It sure feels that way. - Theon admitted, breathing softly, looking in the void – Truth matters relatively, I suppose.”

“Feelings do not substitute reality.”

“But I'm my mind, not a newspaper.”

Robb blinked and seemed to need to digest that. He wanted to tell Theon that was not an excuse to give in to self-destruction and self-deprecation, but words seemed harder now that they were both naked and bathing in one another's afterglow.

_Hell, hell is others, hell is oneself, hell is an absence._

_Hell is so many things and a chamber of echoes._

_One could discuss forever about what hell is, what love is, what happiness is, but it would mean close to nothing. It would be the fleeting reality of a moment spent in pain, of an experience shard fractured in time sinking through the flesh._

_It means nothing, we don't know the definitions of things beyond our mind._

“You're not alone...”

Theon seemed to twitch a smile.

“Do you still think you can heal me?”

Robb frowned, “Why wouldn't I?”

Theon shrugged, unsure. Maybe sex had seemed to him like a crazy last shot.

_Maybe he doesn't know he has called me from the depth of the earth and that his scent is a magnet and turned me into a spark. And set me on fire. And lit up the dark._

“Are you hungry?”

Theon blinked, “A bit, why?”

“I am. - he swallowed down – Do you feel like having something?”

Theon chuckled, “I can't afford much, I'm … I mean, I should find a job, Asha said this bar needs someone.”

“That would be nice. - Robb smiled and caressed Theon's hair slowly – A barman, uh.”

Robb's heart broke as he saw Theon's eyes getting wide and blown black and teary.

Theon's bottom lip quivered and he threw himself in Robb's arms, holding onto him, hiding against his chest.

For a while, just for a while.

Robb kissed his head tenderly, and went on caressing the hair, slowly.

He swallowed, closed his eyes, and let his fingers run through the soft silk.

Theon sniffled against it, smelling Robb's scent, its soothing saltiness.

Robb kissed his head again and Theon for a moment seemed to want to move away, so Robb put his arms around him and clung to him tight, keeping him close.

“Stay here. Please.”

Theon nodded, weakly.

Robb faked a little strained laugh, “By the way, I was meaning to offer.”

“Oh, god, you sure know how to seduce a poor maiden.”, Theon joked, his voice still kneaded with sadness and murky with tears, hoarse as it could be, but with a soft laugh chuckled in between the breaths. And Robb smiled.

 

19\. THEON

 

_Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth, because morning and hope are impossible there … The light is buried under chains and noises … how did it go on? One, two, breathe. One, two, breathe. The shower water is sharp, it hurts, lower it, c'mon, please, lower it. It's too hot. But if it burns it means I have a skin. How did it go on? And crowds stagger sleeplessly through the boroughs as if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood … a shipwreck of blood. A legal slaughterhouse. I have my massacre carved into my bones. Therapy can't go so deep._

_Therapy can't find me here._

_Don't you look prettier now that you're all clean? You look so much cuter. You look so cute. Let me touch you, let me hold you. Do you want to play a game? Let's play a game, shall we? Which finger do you like the most? Now, uncle will show you something nice. How does it feel to have me inside your whory cunt? How does it feel, Theon, hm? Is uncle nice to you? Ramsay. Euron. Ramsay. Euron. You're just a fucking faggot striving for fucking attention stop dressing like a fucking hooker. Dad. You're so warm, are you bleeding for me? Like a virgin pussy. How nice. You're so warm, Theon, you wrap around me so well, oh, don't cry, don't cry._

_I'll make you feel good._

_No, no, no._

_Theon, Theon – Rod, drik, Rodrik – Theon? What happened? Why do you keep your hands there? Does your tummy ache? Mom, Theon ate too much, he feels sick. My tummy hurts. My tummy burns. But yours is open. I turn and I see it dripping, guts like rain, intestines pink like kissed wet lips, blood thick as come. They unravel down. My tummy is on fire, yours is cut apart. Rodrik,R od, can you feel any pain? Do you see it? Do you? It's your fault, Theon. What, why. Why did you come back? Why were you the one to survive? Dad would have wanted Rodrik back._

_Dad._

_I'll make you feel good. Did you use this often? You look like the kind of boy fucked by the whole platoon. Uncle will be delicate, this is a special place. I'll make you feel good._

_Dark dark it rains mud here in Vietnam, mud, nam, dark, dim, din, dig. Dip dip dip your soul in mud, I wish I could drown there, it's too thick it fills my lungs. I can't breathe. Why did I emerge? Why did I try? It would have been better to just die here. Just here in the mud. It's almost warm, it's almost kind. I'll tell you, please, I'll tell you all you want to know, just stop, stop. But, Theon, I don't want to know anything. A slimy, brackish, treacherous laugh. I'm just having fun. Don't be so obstinate. You're so fucking stubborn, kid, shut up. You still insist on behaving like a damn pussy. Don't be so obstinate, Theon, Reek, my dear, let me just extirpate you to the root. It will all be easier then. You're just making it harder for you this way. You're going to hurt yourself if you resist, You're making it hard on everyone._

_I'll make you feel good._

The water scalded him, he muffled a scream, he could barely wake from the drunk sensation anyway.

_Ramsay. Euron. Ramsay. Euron. Dad. Mom, mom, mom, please, mom, please, help. What's wrong, baby boy? It's your mother's fault, she spoils you too much. You're such a good kid, not like your brothers, so you will obey me, right? You look like such a mama’s boy. I bet you were her favorite, weren't you? Mom, mom, please. But your dad hated you, didn't he? Is this why you crave cock up your ass? You want your daddy to give his to you? Stop stop stop. Theon, don't be afraid. Rodrik? Smiling? It's going to be alright. Rodrik, smiling. His teeth are black with cold slimy mud. Smiling. It's going to be alright. His guts are open, it's so wide, it all spills out. How don't you see it? God, god, please, I'll put it back, my hands are getting full of blood, I'm trying to put it back in, back in your... Rod? Rod, can you hear me? Why are you still smiling? Rod, Rod, your... your stomach and your heart are rolling in mud. Rod, please, please, help me. Help me put it back. Mom, mom, mom. Is this one still alive? Poke him, if he is, he'll scream._

“Theon?”

Robb's voice shook him awake, shocked him sane. It pierced through him like a sharp hook.

Theon closed the water, eyeballs wide, staring in the void, but now seeing it, seeing the drops on the glass, the shower – the mess he had made, his fingers were all red, his skin stung.

“Theon … - more worry – Are you fine?”

_No, no, no. When have I ever been fine?_

“I'm... - his voice croaked and fell into a puddle of a sob – I'm coming.”

Robb nodded, resting his shoulder on the bathroom door, “Do you need help?”

He swallowed, “...maybe.”

“Do I come in?”

Theon shook his head, silly, as if Robb could in any way see him.

“Sing to me.”

Robb frowned, “I'm not exactly the best singer that...”

Theon groaned, his voice twisted, high-pitched, as he tried to exit the shower, but found himself stuck in his own immobility. 

Was the floor turning to mud?

Was the floor mud?

_No, no, no, take me away, take me away, quick._

“Holding you, you holding me... - Robb started and his low voice was awkward and beautiful and tense – Everyone could see we were in ecstasy, making love against the wall, feeling very small … when we didn't need to be...”

Theon blinked, closed his eyes shut, breathed in. Darkness and the scent of water.

_Shower. Not a river._

_Shower, shower, not a river._

“Easy now; don't let my love flow out of you...”

Theon let out a choked, coughed smile.

Mud turning to squares, brown turning to white.  _Tiles, tiles were back._ He held onto the border of the shower.

Robb continued, resting his head against the door, his voice warming up, “Please, remember that I want you to come too ...”

Theon snorted, then took a step out.

“Really now?”, he asked, loud enough so Robb could hear him.

Robb smiled, he seemed to almost relax, then, and his voice lowered, “Oh my darling, help me please, when I'm without you I fall down and graze my knees.”

Theon put on a towel, probably Asha's, it was so soft it felt unreal, he caressed it stubbornly. He used to like soft materials.

He liked silk once.

He avoided looking in the mirror, opened the door and gave Robb a smirk and a knowingly look, “I look so funny and I feel sad? - he chuckled – Your love is all I've ever had, so please don't tease?”

Robb bit his bottom lip, smiling in relief and raised and lowered his shoulders.

“It's the first one that came to my mind.”

“Clapton, really?”

Robb avoided telling him Layla was the one that made him think of him the most, and smiled. “How do you feel?”

Theon lowered his look and breathed in, then scratched his forehead.

“I'm... I kind of don't feel...”

“...well?”  
“The mirror. I don't want to look in it.”

“It's fine. - Robb smiled, moving closer and offering his hand for Theon to take – You look breath-taking anyway.”

Theon rolled his eyes, “Really now.”

“I swear. - Robb said, very serious – But if you want I can brush your hair.”

_My mom used to._

“I'd like that...”

Robb caressed one of his locks, gently, they were wet and probably felt cold, but he touched it as one would touch a curl of gold from a baroque statue, with devotion and awe.

_Like I'm light and not darkness._

“What are you thinking about?”

Robb blinked slowly, looking somewhere between the lock and a whole world beyond, “You're so pretty... this doesn't even seem real.”

“... Robb?”

“Yes?”

“It.. is not just that I'm a man, right?”

Robb snorted, “Do you think I risked my marriage for every man I found hot?”

Theon measured and weighted down the question, “I suppose not. - he removed the towel from his waist and put it around his long hair. Robb observed as he wrapped it. When Jeyne did it, it was not nearly as mesmerizing, which terrified him.

“You're not half bad of a singer, by the way. - Theon chuckled – You should serenade me more often.”

“Layla, You've got me on my knees...”

“You know. - Theon's eyes shone – For someone so into making others beg, you sure seem to like songs where you do.”

Robb seemed caught back but he relaxed as Theon kissed him, delicately, on the lips.

“... I'm... liking you.”, he confessed, then.

And he seemed almost scared at the prospect too.

Robb let out a smiled sob, and chuckled, shaking his head, “Me too.”

“Tell me I'm not some kind of crazy experiment or skinny dipping or...”, his lips quivered.

Robb smashed their mouths together in a voracious kiss, slamming Theon against the wall and sinking his tongue into him, bruising his lips and claiming him.

Theon threw his arms around Robb's neck, pulling him down to him.

_Those who go out early know in their bones there will be no paradise or withering loves … shedding petals._

 

20\. JAIME

 

“I should go to the station.”, she mumbled, staring at the ceiling.

Jaime groaned and pouted, his head on her chest, and pulled her closer. “No.”, he said with the most spoiled, childish pitch ever.

She loved him and found him annoying altogether.

“Some of us have day jobs.”, she said, laughing through a fake serious tone.

“No.”, he stated, as simply as that, bringing his mouth on her nipple and sucking it, courting it with his tongue, teasing it with the edge of his teeth. Brienne threw her head back, letting out a breathy moan.

His hand slid under the blankets, his fingers caressing her stomach, travelling with a soft brush, to slide then between her thighs. Her warmth felt so good and tender, for a moment, he knew he didn't deserve it.

He didn't deserve Brienne, in general.

She was so pure and he was a mess. But she didn't seem to mind, as long as it didn't hurt her.

He wondered if that was kindness or foolishness.

His fingers slid inside her, teasing, cupping some of her nectar and placing it upon her clit – Brienne gasped, bit her lips, allowing him to circle over it, to court it and tease it until she felt it turgid and pulsing.

Jaime's tongue tickled her nipple, he sucked it, devoted like a child, desperate like a pup, while rubbing her clit rapidly, circling it rapaciously. 

“Jaime. - she swallowed hard – Work.”

He left her nipple and kissed her boob, gently, “You're so beautiful.”

“Don't lie.”

“Do you know me as a liar?”, he asked.

She didn't reply, but he felt her shiver against his fingertips. He moved to her cunt, kissing his way to her sweet, blonde fur, and moved his fingers inside her, except the thumb, with which he kept circling her blooming pearl.

She let out whimpered, thunderous moans, as Jaime started pushing in and out with his fingers, while pushing and rubbing the thumb on her.

_She likes it rough_ , he realized, pleased. She moaned harder, biting her bottom lip and riding her hips against his hand.

God, she would set the rhythm even then, wouldn't she? Stubborn, beautiful thing. Wild as a fucking horse.

He curled his fingers inside her, caressing, teasing her walls, trying to find inside her what would melt her. And, as he did, the hot cave got all wetter and tighter and Brienne's moans louder.

Jaime kissed her clit, licked it, moving his thumb lower.

He moved his hand quick, fucking her, slamming that sweetest lagoon inside her that made her hips writhe and her eyes roll to the ceiling. He sucked her sweet clit, licking it softly, lapping it.

Brienne bit her hand, while her hips convulsed.

He felt her swollen inside, hot and full, his hand fastened the rhythm and she shook her head.

“Jaime, it feels like...”

His tongue ran slowly on her wet gland, she squirmed, mute. And he proceeded to lick her, twisting his tongue, dragging shivers out of her, drowning and pushing into her until warmth took her over.

She protested, weakly, her voice melting in droplets of fire.

Her toes curled, her back arched and she came, against his tongue with a bitter, dry pulse and against his hand with a sprayed squirt that washed over his wrist and stained his collarbones, while his hand kept drilling in, dragging an orgasm after the other, until her swollen, soft pussy convulsed wet and oversensitive, tight against him, unable to let him go.

Brienne sat up, still gulping down. She stared at his face, at the wetness on him.

“...did I...? - she looked awfully ashamed – Oh, god, tell me I didn't...”

Jaime chuckled, biting his lips and smiling. He looked so... happy, smitten. Smug to himself but so in awe of what he saw, as if more than a pussy he saw a masterpiece.

“It's not pee, dear. - he smiled again, amused – Now I do see your virgin side.”

“Shut up. - she scoffed, then looking at his hand, as to search for blood – What was it?”

“Come.”

“Women don't...come like that.”

“Most don't, but that's more on their lovers than on them.”

She rose slightly, looking at her bed, now wet. But it didn't smell like urine, and the color was different too. She sighed, feeling vulnerable, but also pleasure was still glowing warm inside her, twitching in her raw clit.

She raised her eyes and locked them with Jaime's green ones.

He looked at her so enchanted. Then he closed his eyes and sucked his lips, doubtful. Brienne bent and kissed them, gently.

“You were amazing.”

Jaime bit his lips.

“Brienne.”

“Yes?”

_I dreamed of you so much, waking up with my lips panting against the void, with my heart liquefied on my mattress, that now I'm terrified._

_Is this a dream too?_

_Will you disappear?_

_Will I wake up without you again? Against your hard absence again?_

_And how to tell you that? You won't ever believe me, will you?_

“You're beautiful.”

“I am sighted, Jaime.”, she replied, soft and yet drastic.

“You're truly stubborn, aren't you?”

She groaned and kissed him again, quickly, “I'm not asking for compliments or for some self-confidence boost. I am fine with myself.”

“Then why don't you let me state my opinion?”

“Well, aren't you persistent.”

“I prefer adamant. - he grinned, raised his eyebrows – Or relentless.”

“...or yappy.”

Jaime let out a confused, fake outraged gasp, “How dare you.”

She laughed and gave him a playful slap. He had the temptation to throw her on the bed and kiss her harder and then ask her to fuck him again.

“I have to go!”, she laughed in a quick kiss on the cheek.

Jaime pouted, “Fine, fine, I'll stay here.”

“You need to go to the bar. - she said, eyes shining, amused – Maybe Asha's brother will come.”

Right. Asha's brother.

“Do you know him?”

“What she told me. - Brienne mumbled, shrugging, she trotted around the room, looking for some clean clothes, she would have liked to shower, but there was barely the time, and she liked the idea of not washing away Jaime's touches – He was like caught by the Vietcong’s, tortured for months, something awful. - she put on her uniform pants and a white shirt, remembering she surely had a clean jacket in the changing room at the station, her nipples were still sensitive as they brushed over the fabric, or maybe they only felt like that because she knew Jaime was still staring at them, enchanted, as if it made any sense – He is a good lad, for sure, as she is.”

“Do you always judge a whole family based on one member? In my experience, it is not always advisable.”

“Look, mister Optimism. - she scolded him – That boy lost some fingers and toes to defend this country.”

Jaime nodded, “I'm just worried that he is... well, I know a guy, he works with vets that lost their marbles.”

“I'm sure he's healthy, she just says he doesn't eat much and feels sad, but wouldn't you feel sad if you lost fingers and years for a useless war?”

Jaime grinded those words down and nodded, “I know, I know, listen, the job is his if he doesn't fuck up. I'm just prudent.”

“Do you always see the glass half-empty?”

“Isn't it, though?”, he scoffed.

“If it, it's half-full too.”

He shook his head, chuckling. And then he remembered what Robb told him once:  _it's all full, half with water, half with air, and they both give you different things_ .

He breathed in and he felt Brienne still on his skin.

“I'll miss you, today.”

She shook her head, but she seemed to mouth a “me too”.

 

21\. ASHA

 

Asha leaned on the wall, biting her bottom lip, while grinning, “Look at who fucked.”

Brienne stiffed, “How in the fucking world can you”

“You're smiling ear to ear while looking in the void. - she explained – Plus, your hair is a mess and that's a man's shirt.”

Brienne let out a breathless groan, “Maybe I bought it for myself.”

“Did it also come in a size that’s way too tight for your shoulders and attached to your boobs or did you wash it poorly?”

Brienne gave up, slamming her changing locker shut.

“Fine, fine, we did fuck.”

“That's my girl! - Asha exclaimed, slamming a hand on her partner's shoulder – How was he?”

Brienne looked away, smiling slightly, “Surprisingly... sweet.”

“Sweet as in he ate the carpet or sweet as in he didn't put it in while you were still dry as the desert, because...”

“Asha. - Brienne glared, embarrassed – Leave me some privacy.”

Asha showed her giant, unexpected bambi eyes. Brienne didn't even know she could do them, but she had to remember then: yes, despite having a younger brother, Asha had been too a younger sibling at a certain point, so she had the power of both categories combined. Scary.

“Please. - she said, bending her head to the side – Give a poor butch something to laugh about in this sad, sad world.”

Brienne groaned, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, “He... took care of … me.”

“Nice. - she smirked – Always trust men with long hair, they care less about gendered shit.”

“I suppose... - Brienne caressed her closed locker, wondering if she should ask Asha about her doubts then, after all, she was her only female friend – Can I... ask you something?”

“Sure you can. - Asha laughed – But before...”

Asha opened her locker again, despite being in uniform and handed Brienne another white shirt, “For under. - she said – If you keep that tight thing on the whole day, it's going to annoy you.”

Brienne sucked her lips, “...did you ever... let out... water when...?”

“Did you squirt?”, Asha asked, loudly, her jaw dropping.

“Oh my god, you're so fucking loud.”, Brienne panicked, looking around, to find nobody, for once grateful they were the only women in the central station. “I don't know what it's called, okay?”, she continued in a whisper.

Asha stared at her and grinned, “I would have paid to see that.”

Brienne stiffened and looked away, “You both can be so vulgar.”

“Sorry. - Asha shrugged – I'm just a bit sexually frustrated... anyway, that's a good thing.”

Brienne felt a bit guilty for having shut her down, after all, Asha had basically encouraged her about Jaime since the start, and for how loud and nosy she could be, it was always with love, but she was so used to people laughing at her, making fun of her, or straight up lying about being her friends, she ended up wary and awkward about most of those confidences that, probably, would have otherwise been a normal part of a female friendship, especially given Asha's sexuality.

She found herself sighing and changed the shirt, while Asha looked away, as she used to do the first times after she had come out to her, but stopped doing as they relaxed together. Brienne never also thought Asha would be hitting on her - she didn't think it of anyone, really – but understood Asha's hyper prudence at the start, now it just hurt.

“I'm just not sure it happened yet. - she admitted – It felt a bit too good to be true. - she blushed slightly – The whole thing I mean, not just the... squirt matter.”

Asha turned, “Why are you so doubtful, girl? Just because you're a bit manly and domineering doesn't mean men won't like you. That guy is  _smitten_ .”

Brienne decided to keep the Connigton Affair to herself, or Asha would have broken his nose.

“He's also very pretty.”

Asha looked at her perplexed.

Brienne was not sure if interpreting it as Asha doubting Jaime's looks or why that would be a problem.

Asha gave then just a low sigh, “It's not that if something good happens, you always have to expect it to fall away, you know?”

Brienne frowned. Something was up.

“... did something happen?”

_I fucked up big time._

_I got close. We talked._

_Her presence attracts me and burns me and I am a fucking stupid moth and love the taste and smell of my wings burning as she touches them._

_I crave her, I crave contact._

_The impossibility of it happening muzzles me but doesn't sedate me._

_And I want to bathe in her and she drives me insane and she laughed and we ate and it was shitty McDonald’s burgers and fries and she ate them like she hadn't had food in days and her lips were salty and I felt my throat clench and hurt because I had to gulp dry and I want her I want her I want her._

_I just ended up rubbing her lips clean with my thumb from the mayonnaise staining them white. Jeyne shivered like a leaf with the contact, but didn't react. I didn't dare anything else._

_But the thought of kissing her... it drives me beyond the edge at 100 mph._

_I want her, I want her, I want her._

_I want to open her, to drive into her, to fill her up and feel her body clench and beg and shiver for me – I want her in ways I shouldn't, and the closer I get the harder it is to go away._

_I'm on a precipice, I'm about to collapse in ruin, I lost my equilibrium, holding onto crumbling, shallow earth._

_I'm too close to the void._

_But it calls me, it calls me._

_And I want her, I want her, I want her. I fucked up. I got too close._

_And now I need her nails on my back while I sink into her, and now I need her voice to twist into moans and how do I need you so when we barely know each other yet? You're a little, brown bird and I'm a fox._

_I shouldn't be the prey here. And here we are. I want her so much it turns me against myself._

Asha raised a look, then sighed, shaking her head, “No, nothing, long night.”

Brienne squinted her eyes, “Did you sleep?”

_No._

“Adequately.”

“That means no.”, Brienne translated.

Asha breathed in and gave Brienne a look that meant she wanted to drop it, then smiled, shrugged and returned to joke around, a laugh is easier to wear on the lips than truth. 

“I hope he also had a great time. - she winked – So my brother can hope for that job.”

Brienne shook her head and tried not to worry.

“I'm sure he'll hire him. He's... more sensitive than he lets on.”

 

22\. THEON

 

Theon breathed out the warm, white smoke that comforted him so well. He felt the brief rush in his veins, his muscles relaxing.

The scent of the cigarette calmed him and he nodded to himself.

_You can do it, c'mon._

He bit his lips. Why had he asked Robb to wait for him in the park? Why had he insisted to go on his own? Robb would have calmed him before the interview.

_You can't live with a babysitter._

_You cannot depend on anyone._

_You need to resist, to keep yourself whole and standing._

Theon breathed in, threw the cigarette on the ground, and went in.

The place smelled nice – like amber and sandalwood, he remembered the scent well, because the first month he spent back home he kept having hallucinations of the scent of corpses and Asha got him a bunch of perfumes she'd spray around and on his nose and mouth to force him to wake up. It didn't always work, but he acquired a vast familiarity with the perfume catalogue – it was all in wood but Theon found it calming. It was dead wood. Not the jungle.

It was nice when it was deserted.

The lack of people allowed him to take in the look, to memorize the space, to taste it in the back of his throat.

Where Robb had been.

Hope seemed to coagulate there, somehow.

He shook his head,  _god, what a whore thing to think_ .

“Theon?”

He turned.

The first image that came to his mind was the one of a Greek god, Apollo or Dionysus, beautiful, with sunlight in his hair and tumid lips. He had a pretty jaw, wide shoulders, but was a tad bit shorter than him, less than Robb, though.

He nodded, “That would be me.”

The guy let out a chuckle, “Good, I don't have a gun to shoot thieves with. - he said – Sit down.”

Theon moved swiftly to a stool and tried his best to smile and seem confident. He wondered if he looked good, with his white shirt and silly nervous smirk.

“So... - the man frowned, but smiled – I never conducted an interview before, so I'm not sure what I should ask... - he looked at Theon – Are you clean? No drugs, no addictions, no shit?”

“I'm clean, sir.”

“Don't call me sir, I'm not your dad. Or a corporal.”

Theon felt embarrassed, but sucked his lips nervously, biting the skin off them.

“I'm Jaime. - the man said, with a smile – Do you have any experience?”

“I... know how to make cocktails.”

“That's cool.”

“And I know how to cook.”

“You're already more qualified than me, then.”, Jaime winked.

Theon felt a little rush of confidence run through his veins. It was a good sensation, he had almost forgotten it.

“Okay, so... until here it's all cool. - Jaime proceeded – But I do have to ask you if you feel like you can do something.”

Theon raised an eyebrow and eyed Jaime's crotch.

“Not that. - Jaime let out a laugh, but moved away – Walk, bring dishes. - he looked at Theon's hands and the fingers missing – Without breaking them and so on.”

Theon looked at his fingers. He thought about his feet. The fingers, the toes,  _he_ took away as he pleased.

“I can. - he said, staring at his feet still, then he raised his eyes and met Jaime's – I need this job.”

Jaime grinned, “Good. - he nodded to himself – You sound like a good lad. And I hope when you're less nervous you're funny too. I'm into dick jokes and awful black humor.”

“Oh, thank god. - he breathed out – God, I'm sorry, licking ass is something I can't do, not even metaphorically.”

Jaime snorted, “I knew you could be funny, given your sister.”

“...Asha?”

“Yup. She's my... well, she got me a date.”

“That doesn't sound like her. - Theon frowned, confused – Are you sure she meant to?”

He laughed again, he hadn't been in such a good mood since years. He still had Brienne's voice in his system.

“A good one too.”

Theon found it weirdly amusing.

“So, when do I start?”, he said, his smirk getting smug.

Jaime stared at him proud, “Tomorrow.”

 

23\. ROBB

 

Robb was sitting on the park bench where he was supposed to wait for Theon with nervousness riding his nerves blind.

He could feel his heart rate racing, sweat droplets and anxiety pooling in his stomach. They wetted his core scared.

He knew the symptoms, _but I didn't realize I was at this point_ .

He was shaking – hand tremors, slight nausea –  _please, not the hallucinations, please, I can't_ .

God damn him and his inability to use middle measures or middle ways to save his life.

_I shouldn't have... I didn't even think I was drinking so much._

A pang of guilt ran through him. And somehow he saw Jeyne in his mind.

Her skinny, weak hands trying to keep him. Her soft chains. Her handcuffs of tears and passivity.

But he didn't chose, he couldn't... and things got out of hand.

_I should have told her, I should have divorced her – she would hate me but my liver would be fine and maybe we would both find a better life and maybe she'd find a nice man. She used to date a certain Willas in High School, for sure that man would have been a better option._

_Probably he liked girls, at least him._

He would have sunk his face in her soft boobs with adoration, not avoided to stare at them, dreaming of a man's ass.

She would have been better off. He would have been better off. But, then again, would he have had anything?

It's not like he could be with someone else. 

It was illegal. A crime.  _I am a crime, my heart is illegal and my desire is a felony._

_How wrong can I be?_

_How deeply rotten are people, then? If their own core, the very thing they are and their love is tainted and a wrong piece and their nature is not repairable and criminal?_

_Can a wish for a kiss really be worse than a malicious act, a punch?_

_Would you leave Jeyne for jail? No, then don't pretend it's about coherence or honesty – you're not honest, Robb Stark, you're a liar living to please others so they won't leave. And your responsibility and your kindness exists just cause you want them close._

_Nobody can leave if they need me._

_If they need me, they'll stay. I'll be essential._

_At least that …_

_It's not about honesty, it never was. You'd sit in a lie and fuck your wife once every blue moon, when your dick is a step away from the whiskey state, and your voice a slur as she moans and cries for you and you, fucking piece of shit, can't even tell her much of an excuse. You let this burn you, you let this burn her._

_But she doesn’t matter._

_And neither does your dignity._

_But you would do it all for this boy. For Theon you would. You pathetic ass._

_You're placing your value in others again, you're letting others' emotions or love be more weight-worthy in a decision than your own truth again._

_How are you that scared they'll leave? They will. He will._

_I can't lose him._

_You’ve known him for too little. This is unhealthy, you know it. But it's the truest thing I've ever felt._

_It's infatuation._

_But it's sunlight too. He is._

Robb panted, widening his eyes. He felt cold sweat run down. He glared around.

Grass, he could see grass.  _The park, right. I'm waiting for Theon. Fuck, this is bad_ .

He stood up, brushed his coat, trying to stand perfectly straight, and took the road, walking quickly to the pharmacy, the closest he could find. He could feel himself close to panicking: Theon couldn't see him like that.

_I have to be strong, I have to be reliable, I have to be a rock._

_If I'm a safe space, they will never leave. He won't leave me behind._

_If I'm a rock, if I'm a rock._

“Valium. - he said, quickly to the pharmacist, that stared at him, first confused then downright sceptical – Please.”

“I should ask...”

“I'm a doctor. - Robb said, showing off his documents – Now, I'd really need my valium.”

The pharmacist went in the back, not looking at him further. Robb appreciated it, but his heart rate kept racing, leaving him slightly breathless.

He closed his eyes, begging for the red darkness to bring peace.

Closing his eyes always felt like being a babe again, in his mother's embrace, in her womb, sheltered in an obscure twilight that was warm and kind and soothing.  _The penumbra of protection._

_If I'm a safe space, they will never leave me._

_If I'm a safe space, he will never leave me._

He breathed in and out, trying to synchronize his heart rate by force. He knew he needed to be calm to allow himself to not seem upset in front of Theon.

He tried to focus on something calming.

_Theon sleeping, Theon resting his head against my chest, Theon smiling._

_Theon's smile widening in delight and bliss before he came._

_The moans blooming and dripping from his lips._

_Wine from an overflowing cup._

_Dark red. Splendid._

_And the way he bent and screamed and shouted and moaned and moaned.... the way he wanted me. Push me a bit harder, pull me close, enter, oh please, please. Please... god... I'm so close._

_Fuck me._

_He said it so simply, so beautifully._

_Melted darkness, scorching shadows. He's lava, he's the night._

_Fuck me. I want you. Devour me._

_All his words come back, emerging from a sweet ocean of heat. I push them away but they’ve carved themselves in my mind._

_So deep. Where reason can't delete them._

_Fuck me. He said. So simply, so obviously._

_As if I wasn't the therapist. And a drunk. As if I wasn't married. And a coward. As if I wasn't driving him into something illegal._

_And for me. I'm not worth it._

_But the way he twists and squirms and writhes and moans and his hips and waist call me to sin._

_He makes me sing songs I don't know._

_Long afloat on shipless oceans, I did all my best to smile... 'til your singing eyes and fingers. Drew me loving to your isle … Did I dream you dreamed about me?_

_Did I dream he …_

“Here is your valium.”

“Thank you.”

_Did I dream of my siren? Did he actually say today he likes me?_

_Are we holed up hollow ships? Struggling on the surface of water?_

_Are we taking on water or are we floating?_

_Please, Robb, just shut the fuck up and take your medicine._

And so he did.

And so he found himself pathetic.

But he didn't hate himself. Because nobody saw him. Not Theon, not Jeyne, not Jaime, not his family, not Jon, not Theon.

Not Theon.

And so it was fine.

Being destroyed, falling apart, but not being seen.

_If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?_

_And does it matter to anyone? Does it matter to the tree?_

Robb returned to the park and to the bench, he sat in front of the little artificial lake in which ducks were moving slowly, fighting each other over bread they shouldn't have been eating, battling over pain. Ducklings fell into the water and rolled in it with joy because nothing mattered yet. The air was chill and brought the smell of the seasons to come.

With all the shame and emptiness Robb feared. And maybe with a tiny bit of electric hope at the end of it all.

Like the thick bottom of a glass bottle, the bottom of void, it seemed to call him.

As if arriving there, as if listening to that voice, would have given him a solution.

Or stop all the perception of pain to come.

Mostly that.

_I'm his therapist. It can't last. And he won't want me._

_I can't make him happy._

_He will want something else – and he will change therapists and lovers and seasons. And I will be old summer leaves turning to autumn._

_Devour me._

_If I could, I would._

_If I could eat your heart, eat you whole, transplant you inside my soul and have you there and not lose you … but I'm gypsum. I'm chalk, I'm stone that crumbles._

_Nobody needs that._

He looked for a long moment at the ducks, wondering where they went in winter when the lake freezes over.

A kiss from behind on his neck. Furtive, quick, just crazy enough to feel absurd and craved.

Robb turned, meeting Theon's smiling eyes and proud, smug look.

“So?”

“I got the job.”

Robb's eyes widened, he was not exactly surprised. Mostly something felt wrong, misplaced. 

“I will still come to therapy. - Theon said, and he sat close – You're not... getting rid of me.”

He wanted to sound smug, but something in his voice was trembling for a confirmation.

Robb couldn't help but smile, his eyes pinching with caught back tears.

“I'm glad to hear that, though I've not been the most orthodox of doctors. - he chuckled – You should totally fire me.”

“Hm, really. - Theon's pitch was dangerously flirty, but they were outside and he couldn't bend in for a kiss, not a real one, the one their eager eyes were burning with crave for – But I happen to like my doctor a lot. He makes me feel very good.”

Robb smiled, rubbed his cheek with a finger, embarrassed.

Then his eyes went to the ducks and his voice got a tad bit more serious.

“Do you want to speak about this morning?”

Theon blinked, confused.

“The shower. - Robb swallowed – You felt sick.”

Theon closed his eyes and nodded, his head heavy. He had to discuss that, didn't he?

“I... - Theon stared at his fingers, long, bony, they looked like the dead branches of tees striving for sunlight in winter but a weak, milky pale sun can't provide much, it leaves you frozen – I sometimes hear voices. - he licked his lips, breathed in – In my head.”

“Hallucinations?”, Robb whispered, softly.

Theon seemed tense and cautious like a deer. He nodded, swallowing.

“Hear, smell... stuff. I...”

“Are they all memories or is there...?”

“Original material? - Theon scoffed, amused, then scratched his eyebrow – I don't know, to be honest.”

Robb looked in front of them.

“Does it scare you?”

“Yes. - Theon admitted in a quick breath – I suppose it does.”

“Are they all about Vietnam?”

“No.”

“No?”

Theon breathed in, closed his eyes, leaned against the bench more and the pressure against his back eased him.

“About... specific people, it's not... I'm not like the others: they remember battles, I remember a cell. The bombs, the mud, the splinters are things I saw... so little, before.”

Robb nodded, slowly, trying not to look at Theon, he didn't want to disrupt the equilibrium they’d reached. His voice was low and soft.

“You remember those who hurt you.”

“One... - Theon swallowed, gulped, it hurt, his throat burned – The... the person, Ramsay.”

Robb frowned.

Ramsay was not a Vietnamese name by any means. 

_Maybe it is a nickname?_

_A codename?_

“The one who tortured you.”

Theon nodded, licked his lips, sucked them, he played with his fingers nervously, cracking the knuckles, making bubbles of air pop like his heart.

His voice cracked and turned to powder.

“I have... to tell you something, as my therapist, but I...don't know if I want my... whatever we are to know yet.”

Robb sighed and turned to him, offering his hands flat between them.

He smiled, but he looked sad.

“This type of stuff is the reason why I think we need to divide those roles.”

“But I don't trust anyone else.”, Theon admitted with a proud, twisted sob. His eyes were red, he sniffled, his breath shivered.

One of Robb's hands then took Theon's, while the other caressed his cheek, gently.

“Then what if I promise to … try to react like a therapist? Until we find together another one you trust.”

Theon squeezed Robb's hand.

Robb smiled and caressed the cheek with his thumb.

Theon's Adam’s apple skipped and jumped, dry. His glance fell aside.

And Robb knew he should have insisted. But couldn't.

“What if you tell me tonight?”, he suggested.

Theon blinked, surprised, “Really?”

“Right now, I'm starving, so let's fill our stomachs before.”

Theon smiled, tentatively.

Robb stood up, offered his hand again to help him walk, and Theon took it. The only good thing, probably, of Theon’s limp, was that there would have been nothing wrong if Theon leaned slightly on Robb or held his hand.

It was almost a forbidden pleasure allowed by pain.

It made no sense. Yet it meant the world.

_Please, don't drink. Don't drink. Be the rock he needs you to be._

Theon smiled and held him closer. As close as he could without people staring.

_God... forgive me._

_If you exist, if there is still a crumble of you, a wide, absurd possibility for you to be real, even a bit, forgive me. I love this man, don't I?_

_This way I feel._

_Like my chest is expanding and warmth comes from within. This can't mean nothing at all._

_I love this man. I love him._

… _I have to divorce, don't I?_

_For Jeyne too._

_No, not for Jeyne, be honest with yourself._

“Theon...”

“Yes?”

_Is it too early to tell you I'm feeling something, isn't it?_

_They say love at first sight is stupid._

_It probably is._

_And yet here I am?_

“How did your interview go? What did your boss ask, how was he... - he tried to smile, scratching his nape – Tell me a bit about it.”

“Well, apparently my sister Asha got him a date and that's how I got the interview?”, Theon admitted, sucking his lips.

Robb snorted, “She sure seems creative in her problem solving skills.”

“She is. - Theon shrugged, his hands went to his pockets and he grabbed a smoke, put it between his lips – She's the smartest one.”

“You don't know that.”

“In a practical way, like.... pragmatic, real life shit, she is.”, Theon seemed to look away.

Robb swallowed, “What about school?”

“Uh. I was good. I guess. - he shrugged – But too poor to go to college, you know. So. What's the use of it.”

Robb frowned, his voice soft, “You could study now with the benefits.”

Theon looked up. He could have …

“...I guess but. - he closed up in his shoulder, shrugged, avoided Robb's look – I mean, for what?”

Robb blinked, then moved his glance to the road, as to allow Theon to bring his own glance back between them in his own time.

“Well, for your own culture. - he suggested – Maybe a good job later.”

“Maybe... I suppose.”

Robb smiled, looking at their shadows on the asphalt.

“What did you like in school?”

Theon laughed, between bitter and tender like the green of new grass.

“Only useless stuff. - he admitted, smiling – Music, languages, literature...”

Robb shook his head, laughing, “And you call all of _that_ useless?”

And Theon looked at him, almost enchanted, he had a small smile on his face and he'd suck his bottom lip and stare, his glance running, obvious and suggestive on Robb's body. Robb felt all of a sudden clumsy and exposed.

“Yes?”

Theon smiled, then whispered, almost mouthing, “I want to kiss you right now.”

Robb blinked, then smiled and murmured back, “Me too. So bad.”

 

24\. THEON

 

They returned to the apartment with their stomachs full of peaches and seafood. And Theon laughed and felt cheerful with light sparkly yellow wine.

And he dragged Robb by the shirt through the door, kissing him messy, sloppy and obscene. His tongue running inside him, begging, taking.

Their breaths felt like scorching red flames, twitching between each other, need burning them blind.

White-hot desire.

And Theon pulled Robb on the bed with him, and kept him close.

The void between his fingers didn't sting anymore and Robb tasted sweet and with the depth of the sea behind it.

And he ran his digits through Robb's auburn curls. And the melted autumn color they were felt tender and dark and perfect.

Robb bit into his neck, sucked, dragged purple on surface, as if Theon's skin was greedy water needing to be shaken.

The sheets felt soft under them, like custodians of their stupid sins and eager happiness. Fragility ran through their shivers.

Robb descended to Theon's chest, tore the shirt and sucked and bit his little dark nipples, Theon scooted forward, arched, swallowed undignified girly moans, and welcomed the odd warmth of Robb's lips, like a necessity, at his breast and then the way he descended in a line of kisses, to his groin. Theon's cock almost jumped, as Robb took off the layers, freeing it, before taking it in his mouth.

Theon closed his eyes, welcoming the smouldering, suffocating air heaving his chest.

Need. Black, blind, absolute need.

Need was a black hole pulling him in, tearing him apart.

He passed a hand through Robb's curls and Robb took all of him in – Theon could feel it: the soft tongue, the obscene heat, the back of Robb's tight throat sucking him.

And it took all of his self-control and masochism to stop him.

“We have to talk. - he panted, moaning, his voice destroyed in a puddle of unravelled pleasure – Please, please, Robb, listen.”

Robb parted from the cock, letting it slide out of his mouth, gently, letting it down his tongue. Theon was half-hard and needy, but he would have hated himself if he didn't talk then.

Robb frowned, moved closer, laying next to Theon and, oh, didn't seeing his eyes make it all more difficult? 

“Ramsay. - he closed his eyes, he couldn't do it, seeing him, his throat clenched – I … he.”

Robb's hand caressed his cheek. Again. Too perfect to be told and because of this even more hurtful.

“He... sodo... - _puke puke puke puke in my mouth it's a tide it's a fucking tide I'm caught in the undertow, please no, not again, puke puke_ – He sodomized me.”, he then yelled all at once, too loud, too fast, tearing the band-aid off.

He tore all of himself off.

At once.

So he hoped it would burn and hurt only an instant, instead, as he said it, the weight hit him in the chest and he felt his lungs crush and his eyes fill with tears.

Robb's eyes widened and he moved closer, then stopped.

He swallowed hard. He had no idea what to say.

His studies all fell mute.

Theon saw his nose twitch, his jaw clench. _Anger._

For an instant, he almost moved away – he didn't think Robb would hit him but he had been hit enough as a child that the sweet nature of the person didn't matter anymore, a sign was enough to stir him with panic.

But then Robb's hands came behind his back and pulled Theon close and kept him in the cave of his arms and chest, tight and safe like he never was.

Theon held him back.

“I want to kill him. - Robb growled low – I want to kill him.”

Theon knew Robb wouldn't. He felt guilty eating seafood because he could see it’s eyes.

But he wanted to.

And that thought was enough.

“I never told anyone.”, he whispered.

“...not even Asha?”

“Anyone.”

Robb's hold on him grew fonder, tighter.  _He is protecting me_ , Theon realized.

“...you wanted me, right?”, he asked, right after.

Theon chuckled, “I never wanted anything or anyone as much as I wanted you. - he confessed, his hand caressing Robb's chest – You feel right.”

_Just right._

_As I didn't know anything could feel._

Robb's hand brushed gently on his back, “Should I be more gentle?”

Theon shook his head.

_Quite the opposite. I want the pain, the possession, I want to see the ghost of his fingerprints evaporate and disappear. I want you to make me your own, on my conditions; I want your possession that comes with my permission._

_I want the Nutcracker Prince, not the Mouse King._

… _that would make no sense to you, though, would it?_

“I like when you're a bit... of a beast.”

Robb chuckled, but he was flustered, Theon could tell.  _I can tell? Do I know you? Really?_

_At least a bit._

“Beast, really.”

“A beast, yes.”, Theon smiled.

“That's quite... flattering.”

“Oh shut up. - Theon bit his lips, smirking – I won't believe your little wifey doesn't tell you all the time.”

“... we don't... do it that much and she's not... very... vocal about it.”

Theon frowned, “What a waste for such a good cock.”

“Don't say so...”

“Why not? - he asked bitterly, _do you still hold affection for her? –_ It's true.”

Robb caressed him and kissed him softly.

“You're making me hard and we really shouldn't.”

_Because I was vulnerable? Don't make me laugh. I feel so awful all the time …_

_You should just fuck me until the pain goes numb. And I should be yours until you forget you belong to someone else._

_It's sick, isn't it?_

_But it feels so pretty inside our ribcages._

“I would want you now more than ever...”

Robb felt a warm river rush through his lungs and he let out a weak smile.  _You want me too, don't you?_

_So madly. So deleteriously._

“... if I left her?”, he whispered.

And Theon knew it was too soon to ask such a thing. But it didn't feel so at all.

_Bury your roots into my chest. Carve your name behind my heart. Mark me deeper than pleasure itself._

“Yes. - Theon swallowed – Yes.”

 

25\. THE LADY OF SHALOTT

 

She sucked her lips, biting into them to the blood.

She had been scratching her arms and pulling the skin, leaving tiny marks of red that were about to get infected on her arms. She was dressed in a soft, mint green dress.

Her waist looked thinner, but her hips didn't and that twisted a knife of self-resentment in his guts. His mother had been telling him how skinny her hips were, like a green apple, but to him they always seemed huge.

He never told her, of course. He was not that cruel. He knew what the problem was.

And her lips were so pink from the stress of having the skin pulled off, exposing her pulsing, wet, raw flesh.

And she was sad and nervous.

But all he could think about was how that pink looked like the head of Theon's cock when he was about to spend.

And she licked her lips and caressed the piano with a delicateness that betrayed otherness and distance. Her fingertips so cold on the dead wood.

She gulped down a couple of times, as if she needed to speak but couldn't find the courage.

Her hands trembled.

The sunlight glittered on the dust between them, suspended in the air, aimless fragments of nothing.

“I was thinking...”

_I know you're seeing someone._

_I know you don't love me anymore._

_I know there's a woman out there you're sinking into, she stirs your blood and turns you from white to black, from man to wolf, and I get lost, glimpsing at the difference, staring in awe at the boiling veins, without being able to touch him._

_Be honest. Or don't be, but love me again._

_Anything is better than this._

Robb didn't even turn to look at her, staring at his paper. News pooling the pages with sufferance and joys of people they didn't know and economy they didn't understand.

“Maybe we should try again.”

Robb swallowed, and she could hear his gulp. She almost felt under the skin the round and heavy effort of the Adam's apple jumping.

“And call him Jon.”, she whispered.

Robb frowned, turned, confused.

Jeyne's lips trembled in a pale smile, she looked as if she was thinner, like she was going to vanish. Her lips looked so unkissed, untouched, Robb's stomach twisted.

He left her.

Like a thing, at the side of a street.

And still he could only think about Theon, about driving himself into him, cherish and destroy him.

“Jon?”, he murmured, almost against himself.

She nodded, smiling.

“I was... unkind, to him. - she paused – And unfair to you. - she lied – I want to fix that.”

Robb's lips quivered with a selfish shiver, a crazy, unspeakable thought.

“What if it's a girl?”, he asked, forcing himself to leave that road his mind was taking.

“You could pick...”, she suggested, her smile faltering.

Robb's eyelids fluttered slowly.

“Theone.”

Jeyne let out a strained giggle, “Poor soul, isn't that uncommon?”

“...it means... godly, in Greek.”

She sat next to him. “I always forget you well-read people know bits and pieces of Greek.”

Robb chuckled weakly. He never felt like names meant anything for real, until he met Theon.

He, he was godly.

“You're right, it's a weird name.”

“We could call her Catelyn, like your mother.”

“Maybe.”

She held his hand and brought it to her womb. He felt sick.

“Our baby...”

He stood up, a bit too quickly, “Yes, umh. - panic, he let out a shy smile – I, you know, I really should go visit her, actually.”

Jeyne looked at him unsurprised, but let out anyway a small “Oh.”

“Maybe we could go to have dinner... tomorrow.”, he said, as to clean his hands from the blood he didn't have the courage to draw.

“Sure. - she smiled, standing up – I go to grab your coat, why don't you finish your tea in the meantime?”

Robb blinked, nodding, nervously. A shy smile again.

She knew that – the smile of things unsaid and untold and left to rot inside caves of bones.

Jeyne licked her thin lips and went to the hall, moving her hands through the coats to take her husband's. She slipped a hand into the left pocket and caressed the skinny, cold metal of the keys to his studio.

She took it in her hand.

And then, as if it scolded her, she dropped it, but slowly, lingering trapped in the painful waters of the silence between them.

She let the key fall into the pocket on her apron.

A fragile smile rose on her mouth, as her top lip tickled and twitched, twisted.

She found it hard to let the words out, and she mouthed breathless silence before closing her eyes, holding onto herself, and the empty emptied core she felt under the bark of her wounded skin.

The pastel green armor could barely hold her together.

Fear shivered and trembled inside her like a cornered animal.

“Do you need a scarf?”, she asked, then, all at once, tears pooling in her eyes, but she caught them back. Her voice came out all shrilly and strident, and she feared he noticed.

But it hurt more when he didn't.

Robb came to her, smiled, kissed her cheek.

“No, I'll be fine, honey.”

And exited.

She stopped holding the tension in her cheeks. She felt her lungs fill and empty and collapse on a shuddering, harmed breath. And tears fell slowly down.

Theone.

She sucked her lips. She needed to find that woman.

She caressed the key, waiting for Robb to be away to consider it once again, to try to stop herself from doing it.

She had to find her, between the documents, between the notes. Theone.

It sounded awful.

 

 

26\. THEON

 

A copper moon shone quiet.

Asha had returned from her turn and fell on the coach, eyes closed, limbs spread out, breath low. Her voice cracked slightly.

Theon came to the living room, silent like a ghost, and sat on the sofa next to her.

Slowly, he placed his head on the soft lagoon of her arm, where it turned into her chest and Asha smiled.

“You hair is soft.”

“I washed them. - he mumbled – I showered this morning.”

“Good.”

“You didn't come back yesterday night.”

“Had things to do, and I'd rather leave you the house when you bring someone over. - she mumbled, eyes still closed, breathing in the evening – You went out for that, no?”

“Angry at me?”

“Concerned. - she admitted – But also relieved.”

Theon smiled, breathing in.

“You sweat like a pig and need a shower too.”, he said.

“Brat.”

He mumbled, then. “Ohi.”

“Yes?”

“The... therapist I'm seeing.”

“Doctor Stark?”, she asked. She had a horrible memory for names. Faces, though, those she never forgot.

“He's good.”

She grinned, moving her head left and right, “And who found him?”

“My sister.”, he half-sung, his pitch frankly annoyed and amused at the same time.

“Oh, yes, she sounds amazing.”

He frowned, “Something putting you off?”

“Hm.”

“...is it about a boy or a girl?”

Asha snorted, “You're not supposed to ask me these things.”

“Girl then.”, Theon deduced.

He took a cigarette and put it in her mouth, then one in his own and lit them both up, Asha smiled, breathing in.

“Do you ever miss Qarl?”, he asked then.

Asha raised her eyebrows while not opening her eyes.

“Sometimes.”, she tried to hide a sniffle with a chuckle, but Theon knew her too well, because he knew himself too well.

_I suppose it's a privilege, somehow, to be able to miss someone, to actually do feel them missing, like a phantom limb._

_It means at a certain point you were so close the separation hurts._

“You should try, though.”

“I can't, Theon.”

“You can't marry or get discovered. - Theon shrugged – You can still fuck, plus you're two girls, it's easier.”

“You're taking for granted she will be interested in me.”, she pointed out.

Theon raised his eyes to the ceiling, then shrugged, “You look enough like a man?”

Asha laughed loudly, “Oh, fuck off.”

Theon grinned, the cigarette hanging lazily from his wet, pink lips.

A smug smirk, he stood up, “Want a beer?”

Asha frowned, turned to him slowly and finally opened her eyes.

“Who are you fucking to be in such a fucking good mood?”

“Nobody special.”, he hummed, opening the fridge and taking out two cans of Falstaff.

It was cold with droplets on the side and Asha winced when she felt it on her face.

“You're an asshole still. - she grabbed it – So I guess I don't have to worry much.”

Theon breathed in and then out again.

“You shouldn't in general.”

“You're my little brother.”

“I'm an adult.”

“To me you're twelve.”

Theon rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing low. Then he heard the doorbell.

_Did he come back?_

Asha puffed out smoke, chortling, “Is he the mysterious man I am not supposed to see?”

“Perhaps.”, Theon admitted, embarrassed.

Asha seemed to find it funny, but she rose up from the faux leather couch and moved to her room.

“Say hi from me!”, she chanted.

“I won't.”, he told her back, before untying his ponytail, letting his hair fall down. _Robb likes them like this._

_Maybe they look girly to him?_

He checked himself quickly in the mirror near the door. The lip scar looked better, the ear one no, but he covered it quickly. He raised a bit his top lip to check the chipped and missing teeth, then he took a big breath and opened the door.

“Hey, stranger...”

Robb smiled, shy, his hands in his pockets. His auburn hair looked wet from light rain.

“Hey...”

_He looks at me with love and pain mixed together, with adoration and guilt, all ingredients that boil and brew in his stomach, and he looks wounded and elated all the time, like he could possess me, fuck me, tear me apart and he'd still feel he's staining me._

_And I think.. that's part of why I felt the lack of his presence, his absence thick on me._

_Like an empty space._

_Like missing him._

“My sister is home. - Theon said, moving his head towards behind him – So.. - he leaned on the door, with a little smirk – How about we go somewhere else?”

Robb nodded.

“A hotel feels a bit dirty.”, he admitted, though.

Theon bit his bottom lip and moved his shoulders, “We can do it in the car, but it seems uncomfortable.”

“I have... a place.”

“A place?”

“Like a family house, but... not used.”

Theon blinked,  _what are you suggesting, Robb? Doctor Stark?_

_Please, don't tell me you'd suggested you’d divorce just to then give me the chance to live like a caged bird in your second house, like a concubine._

_You're my whore._

He shook the thought away.

“That sounds nice.”

“Good... - Robb said and now his smile looked all genuine and relieved – Good...”, he repeated.

Theon laughed, shaking his head, he took his coat and put it on. His fingers hurt under the gloves, but the cold on the void hurt more.

He was halfway down the stairs, when he heard Robb murmuring, sweetly.

“ I … don't think I can be without you.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

27\. THEON

 

Robb's family house looked almost abandoned.

Not that it was falling apart or anything like that, but it smelled like dust, and everything was still and in its place, unused, nothing misplaced, nothing living. The furniture was mostly of a caramel colored wood, while the sofa in the living room was faux leather and the small kitchen was filled with ceramic objects.

There was an old black and white TV and the rest of the house was old newspapers, and stuffed birds, staring creepily.

A swallow-tailed kite stared at him with empty glass eyes .

Theon's hand trembled on the doorstep, but he entered nonetheless.

A weird fear caught him, as he realized he had left a safe-space; he trusted Robb, no? So it shouldn't have been a problem.

_He is no Ramsay. He is not like that._

And he repeated it to himself, stubbornly.

But he didn't know the house and his mind went to all the things that could cut:  _ceramic, kitchen knives, carving knives, hunting knives, screwdrivers, axes._

Robb closed the door behind them and Theon turned to him, shivering cold.

His heart pulsed, hysterical and low in his throat. His heartbeat’s drumming was deafening.

Robb smiled then, so softly that Theon felt the ice of his bones melt away and the armor fall off his heart.

“ _I … don't think I can be without you.”_

_Does he... perhaps?_

Robb swallowed, gulped down dry, then smiled, “Please, sit.”, and he gestured to the sofa. Theon nodded and sat on it, finding it uncomfortably too soft, but he didn't complain. He smelled old tobacco, maybe cigars. 

“...you don't come here often, do you?”

“Not since my father died.”, Robb mumbled.

“Oh.”

Robb shook his head, “It's fine. - a smile, he licked his lips – We used to come here every summer, but I guess... he went away and brought this with him too, even if... well, the house is still here, but-”

“I know.”, Theon said, a bit too quickly, as he felt his chest clench.

_Mom._

Robb smiled again and sat next to him, “My mother and siblings can't bring themselves to come and... I never wanted to bring Jeyne here.”

Theon shivered with a dark thought and his hands found Robb's and held them.

_I can't be without you either._

Robb caressed  Theon's cheek and he nuzzled against it, eyes closed, lips quivering.

“I don't know what to do, Theon.”

He trembled.  _Do you want my permission to leave? My permission to fuck her and me both? Which knife are you asking me to sink into my flesh? From which poisons can I chose?_

“I want to be with you. - Robb clarified then, his eyes falling on Theon's lips – But I don't know if... I should divorce her or... just explain things to her. - his eyes shone in pain and guilt, they looked like a thick cataract in his voice – She's catholic, she can't divorce, she'll... have her life ruined, she won't remarry, have another life, I... - he gulped dry, his Adam's apple twisting and jumping up – But if I tell her, if she decides to make it public, then we're both in danger.”

Theon felt his throat clench.

His hands left Robb's lap and hand, and he looked away, stubbornly.

“So, are you really so indecisive between... us being safe and her being hurt? - he scoffed, mocking, smug – Religion is a pile of shit anyway. Maybe she needs to wake up.”

“I married her, Theon, she's my responsibility.”

“She's not a child.”

Robb's eyes gleamed sour, in pain, and he diverted his glance from Theon.

“I can't just abandon people.”

_That's just the person you are, right?_

_Am I even special? Am I unique?_

_Would you have done this shit for any man pretty enough, who’d come into your life with enough_ _problems for you to feel good about helping them?_

_Am I a patient? Is that really what had made you fall?_

“What if I asked you to choose.”

“...don't.”, Robb begged, looking away.

_A thorn in the heart’s flesh. Poison and iron._

“You'd choose her, wouldn't you?”

Theon's voice was angrier and harder than he wanted it to be, but he couldn't help it, a bitterness flooded over, staining everything.

_What did you think would happen? He’s known you since so little. He married her. He loves her. You're just his whore. You're just his jerk off tissue._

_You're not that important._

_You're nothing._

_You're mine._

_Theon's heartbeat accelerated and his eyes trailed off. Please, please, please, don't go away, please, please, please, let me get what I want. For once, just for once, just for this one time. I told you about Ramsay. I told you about him, you cannot leave me now …_

“I wouldn't choose her over you. - Robb's hoarse voice croaked – I'd choose her happiness over mine. And your safety above my will to live.”

Theon bit his bottom lip.

_I'm the skinny pieces of the pride I once had. I'm the crumbles of the walls I’ve built._

_You pour salt on the wounds you cut, and yet you pour balm too._

_Save me, turn me away, break me to pieces, kiss me. I don't want to need you, but I already do._

… _I never felt so close to anyone before._

_I never felt this way before._

_And I hate it._

_I have no life jacket, I have no bulletproof vest._

“Please. - Robb took Theon's face between his hands and their foreheads touched – Please, listen to me. I know I've been a terrible therapist and a worse lover, but I need you to help me.”

Theon nodded weakly.

_I don't understand why I can't say no to you._

_Maybe because your hands keep me whole. Maybe because of how your voice trembles low._

_Maybe because you're red, the sweetest color. And the most violent too._

_You're the color of the storms you shake furiously in my heart._

“I want you.”, Robb promised.

… _you just can't live selfishly, can you?_

_Your selfishness is being selfless._

_You find your strength in others needing you._

“I need you. - Theon said then, almost as if he thought saying it could caress Robb's heart – You don't have to constantly put others before yourself, though.”

“I know.”

“Is this why you drink so much?”

Robb blinked, confused.

His lips parted slightly.

Theon smirked, “You thought I hadn't noticed...? - his lips bent a little in a smirk, but he kissed Robb's forehead – I can read you a bit too.”

The corners of Robb's mouth twitched up, fragile, in a hesitant smile. His eyelids fluttered weakly, as if he couldn't believe it.

“And you like me anyway?”

_How could I not?_

_It's the fragment of you that makes you a little bit like me. The familiar part. The not foreign one._

“I don't think I can not like you.”

“That's an unfairly amazing advantage you're giving me.”, Robb joked, smiling in relief.

Theon caressed Robb's auburn locks.

He breathed in.

“You really don't mind the... - his glance trembled on his hands – Voids?”

Robb shook his head, took Theon's hand by the wrist and kissed it, not where his fingers missed or were, but on the back of it, as if he were some kind of king or prince to swear fidelity to.

“I mind that someone hurt you. - Robb murmured – But you're not ruined. People can't be hollowed out.”

_How blind you are._

_How naive._

_How do you look_ _at me and not see I'm a cavern, an eroded_ _stone, a sea grotto that is held together by just it’s emptiness?_

_Your water can't fill me. Your azure can't change my blackness._

_The light you see on my walls is just the one you reflect from the sun._

_I'm hollow, I'm nothing but walls that are paper thin, and scars and nail-dug trenches where my core once was._

… _but if I could be fire. If I could be warm and light and bright, for a moment. I guess I'd spend that moment staring at my reflection in your blue._

Theon's lips quivered. “I won't force you to divorce.”

_But, please, do._

_I can't bear to share you. This is so unhealthy, I'm so unhealthy, we’ve known each other since such a little time and I crave you so much and I’ve carved you so deep. This is so wrong._

_I have a bad sensation about this, as if black is going to drip on us all, like silky tar or shadow laces. I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes, I have to turn my head until my darkness goes …_

“I'll try to speak to Jeyne honestly. - Robb held Theon's hand – I'm sure she'll understand.”

Theon scoffed, sourly.

_No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue, I could not foresee this thing happening to you._

“If you think so...”

_If I look hard enough into the setting sun, my love will laugh with me before the morning comes._

“You don't seem very optimistic...”

Theon's eyes gleamed.

_Why would I be? How can I count on her letting you go? I would never if I were her._

“I've seen a lot of selfish people in my life. - Theon shrugged – I think my faith in selflessness is quite absent lately.”

Robb let out a small smirk.

“Jon would have liked you.”

Theon frowned, jealousy twisting bitter and painful like an eel down his stomach.

_An ex lover?_

“Jon?”

“My cousin. - _Oh, thank god_ – He killed himself.” 

_Great. I'm an asshole who was jealous of a dead person. Add it to my resumé._

Theon swallowed dry, “Was he also messed up?”

“He was... sullen and a bit gloomy.”

“Excuse me, I feel offended.”

Robb laughed, “I'm not saying you're the same, at all. I wouldn't want to fuck you so much if you reminded me of him. - his hand went to Theon's lips and pressed them, letting a wet, lustful gasp escape Theon's mouth – You're so charming, and warm, but you are both so obstinately pessimistic... you'd get along in mocking me.”

“Now that sounds more like it... - Theon kissed Robb's nose – Did he know?”

“He did.”

_And when you lost him, you lost the only person who held that part of you and loved you despite it, right?_

_How wrong did you feel, you who are so perfect? How deformed, how unlovable? I'll love you for all the world._

_You can be weak with me, you can be open and rotten and unhealthy and afraid. You can be sand, you don't need to be mountains._

“Now I know. - Theon gave a smug smirk – And I'm not easy to kill.”

Robb laughed in relief. The corners of his eyes formed tear droplets and Theon kissed them away.

Robb held Theon's face, cupping it with his hand, while he felt Theon's soft lips on his eyelids.

As they parted, Robb opened his eyes again.

The scars near Theon's mouth were much more visible now.

But they were not ugly.

Nothing of his was ugly. 

His hand descended down Theon's neck, his thumb pressing gently on the muscle, the tip rubbing where the blood vessels were –  _you melt me, I go to your head and you to mine_ – and descended to the shoulder, moving the shirt away to uncover his skin, to then lower his mouth and bite into it.

Theon gasped, his voice whirl-pooling darker and denser.

His throat clenched, his voice got drenched in liquid pleasure.

Robb's hands tore his shirt open, they ran over his skin, searching for his heat, lips on his nipples, teeth rubbing on them.

Theon brought a hand to his lips, biting it hard to muffle a moan. It felt shameful and his heart felt heavy as if liqueurs bliss had enveloped it.

His eyelids fluttered as Robb's fingertips teased and tasted his skin, and he felt the dear bruising where Robb was pressing and a delirious eagerness burn through him. 

Robb's teeth bit his nipple, and Theon arched and threw his head back, moaning.

His jet black hair was a waterfall of silk and Robb pulled it, forcing Theon to stiffen, his eyes rolled back, his tongue out, shuddering. 

Theon let out a choked, hoarse moan.

Robb licked his neck, sucked it purple, Theon felt on the verge of fainting each time Robb's lips tasted him and left him painted in blood-dragging slow heat. His chest shuddered and trembled.

Robb's hands were running over his body, smoldering and scorching, bringing bliss to the surface and leaving a constellation of marks and claims. A _beast, a beast. I would let you tear my flesh apart, blood is little price to pay._

_My neck open, my blood spilt – this time willingly, this time as an offering._

_Not taken, but given._

_Not extorted, but sacral._

_The blood of Christ, the blood of love. Drink from my cup. Drink me whole. I'll pass through you_ _and you won't be able to wash me away. I'll always be inside you._

_Then come into me, fill your own cup with your come, and_ _then you'll always be inside me too._

_I don't want to lose you. I cannot lose you._

“Tell me if I’m being too rough.”, Robb breathed, hoarse, almost groaned.

His trousers formed a well familiar tent and Theon felt his own pull. Heat pooled in his balls at the sight.

He swallowed, dry.

“I want you to be more.”

Robb frowned, confused.

_Hurt me, I'm asking you to, I'd beg for it. I want pain to make sense. I want a pain that is good, a pain I'm asking for._

_I want it to make sense._

_Turn everything that had happened into something else._

_Wash him away, fuck me clean, fuck me whole again. You can, I know you can._

“Treat me unkindly.”

_Treat me badly. Treat me like a whore. Your whore._

_I was his, he made me his, he broke me, he took me – if I'm yours, if I belong to you, this will stop, right? Right?_

_Let me be yours._

_Allow me to let you walk on me._

“Be mean to me. - Theon whispered, his eyes lucid – Play pretend, if you must.”

Robb swallowed hard, “Is this what you want?”

Theon didn't miss the cannibalistic gleam in Robb's eyes.

_He would eat me, he would eat me whole. Oh, please, do._

_I love you._

_God, I do. This must be it, is it not? It's not full, it's a bud, it's a closed bud, but this feels so wrong and so uncomfortable like weed and ivy growing between my ribs, tight in their grasp. They'll break them. I feel it consuming every part of me._

_And I have to indulge in it._

_Filling my hands, I drink a mouth-full from a spring of poison._

_I love you._

_I hate that I do. Who would chose to be fragile again?_

_And yet here I am._

_Fuck me clean, fuck me whole, fuck me alive. Resurrect me, Robb._

“Yes.”

Theon's eyelids fluttered and he glanced at Robb's big swollen lips and Robb let out a little smirk.

“Will you tell me if I go too far?”

“I'll use a word. - Theon said, his voice thick as arousal grew through them, his hand caressed Robb's neck – Umbrella. If I say umbrella, stop.”

“Umbrella?”, Robb asked, apparently curious.

“ _Some people feel the rain — others just get wet.”; Mom always said. “Don't trust people who claim to love the rain, but only like it when they're sheltered. They like to play it safe. Life shouldn't be lived with umbrellas open.” ._

_I miss her._

_You look like her a bit._

_Somewhere behind the face, in the soul, if anything like that exists for real._

“Do you...?”

“Yes.”

 

28\. ROBB

 

Robb's head drummed to a rhythm unknown before.

_He wants me, he wants me like that … despite everything? Am I another way to self-harm? Or is this just how he likes it best?_

_Should I trust him?_

_I want him. I want him. I want him._

He thought back to Jaime, to how he liked being dominated, and decided to start with something similar and see where Theon's limits were …  _though going at it so blindly... with no indication at all. I could hurt him._

Theon's lips brushed his neck, as to beg him silently. Full and wet and made _to be bitten_ .

_Did I dream you dreamed about me?_

Robb unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them to his knees, his half-hard cock poking from the boxers' rim, the fabric showing a damp stain. He jerked himself to full hardness and glanced darkly at Theon.

“Sit on me.”

Theon's eyes shone wet, they looked like they were in need of so much more, of words, of dominance. A quiet, sweet dominance, a love-filled, love-struck one.

“I'll fuck you until you can't move anymore.”

Theon stripped away his pants and underwear, showing his own cock, twitching hard, flushed and shuddering.

He moved close, but Robb seemed to change his mind.

He took his own belt and a pen from the side and slammed the pen into the soft leather, piercing a hole in it, then placed the belt around Theon's neck like a collar, and tied it up just right.

Theon shivered, staring at it, and then at Robb, who sucked his lips softly.

Theon could feel his spine hurt in need, when Robb caressed his ears and hair, much like one would do with a puppy.

Then he slapped him across the cheek and Theon panted, his lips wet.

_Fuck._ Robb realized. He loved that.

_Should I call him a bitch? A slut? Is this what he wants of me? Does he want me to humiliate him?_

_Or to cuddle him?_

_Do you want pain or salvation? Do you mix the two in your blood?_

Robb pulled on the belt, much like a leash, “Be a good boy, lick my cock before you sit on it.”

Theon sucked his lips and nodded, moving closer to Robb's cock and nuzzling it with his head, before letting his tongue out and licking the full shaft, root to tip.

Theon's tongue felt so hot on his head, so soft, that Robb let out a low groan, bucking his hips lightly. He could feel Theon's breath on his tip, his tongue teasing his slit, while his hands caressed his balls and jerked him. 

Robb kept one hand tightly on the belt, while the other went on the side of Theon's face, caressing it, then on the back of his head, petting his hair.

“Such a good boy... - his voice grew hoarse – You make me feel so good.”

Theon whined, opening his mouth and taking Robb's big cockhead inside his mouth, sucking it, hollowing his cheeks with desperate heat gleaming in his needy eyes.

Robb's eyes shone and a thrill ran down Theon's spine.

Theon's arousal was so visible and leaking that Robb didn't even need to ask, he pulled the leash and slammed his hips inside and out of Theon's mouth, fucking his face. Robb arched his head back, groaning, his voice low and hoarse.

His other hand pushed Theon down, forcing the whole length into his mouth and down his throat.

In and out, madly fast.

Theon's cock twitched and jumped, hearing his own sounds, how wet – almost slapped – his throat sounded, while fucked to the brink, mercilessly, just used, used so hard and well and good.

He gagged on it, saliva drooling out of him, but when Robb was almost out, he caught him back and bobbed on his hard cock, sucking him, sheathing him in himself. His eyes rolled back in the pleasure lolling down his tongue.

Then Robb pulled him back by the hair, it hurt, but it just made it feel better.

Belonging willingly.

Robb's cock was throbbing, big and aching, and Robb's voice was accordingly strained, “I told you to prepare it, not to make me spill into your mouth.”

Theon was panting breathless, but his lips moved up in a smirk.

“I'm greedy.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, “Should I punish you, then?”

Theon lowered his eyes and sucked his lips.

_Did I go too far? He didn't say …_

Theon moved down on his cock again, kissing it devotedly and rubbing his face against it, lewdly.

“Forgive me. - he murmured – I couldn't stop.”

Robb gulped down, dry, then gave a small tug to the leash. The little chocked groan Theon gave, as the belt pressed on his throat, gave him a low shiver.

_Control._

_Pure, raw, untamed control._

“Go ahead, then. - he almost grinned – Earn forgiveness.”

Theon's eyes shone with an obscene gleam and he moved over Robb's cock. He grabbed the Vaseline from the clothes they had thrown on the sofa, dipped his fingers into it and sank them through his orifice. A whined moan escaped his lips, and he sucked them, muffling himself.

_And you sang: sail to me, sail to me, let me enfold you._

“You're a damn siren.”

The corner of Theon’s lips twitched up, ecstatic. His fingers twisted inside his hole, preparing himself but frustrating him further.

His chest shuddered, Theon moaned and slid slowly over Robb's throbbing, thick cock, shivering and squirming as he felt it claiming his space, widening and stretching his empty hole, inch after inch, wider than it should be allowed to be.

As his ass swallowed all of it up, eager and needy, Theon panted, bending slightly, his breath laboured, his face red.

Robb caressed his hair, sweetly. His voice was soft and warm.

“Good boy. - a kiss on Theon's forehead – Tell me how it feels.”

Theon let out a weak laugh, “Like having a baseball bat up my ass. - he chuckled – Should have used more grease.”

Robb's other hand pulled the belt.

“If you ask nicely, I can help you.”

Theon smiled, biting his tongue slightly, then he moaned, weakly lewd, “Would you stroke my bat while I ride yours?”

Robb pulled the leash harder.

“Magic word?”

“Please.”, Theon panted, chocked and hard.

Robb left Theon's hair, giving one last pet, before starting to jerk his cock, hard and fast, making Theon bite his lips, his eyes rolling back. He arched his back, moaning and starting to move his hips, working a rhythm, dancing slowly on that cock pressing his ass wide.

“You're leaking. - Robb chuckled, soft, almost cooing him – You're so wet and hard.”

Robb's quickened his motion, bringing Theon on the most exasperated edge. Theon screamed, his voice creaming in bliss, his hips bucking harder, swinging desperately over Robb's cock.

He fucked himself, his prostate craving touch, needing it, the deepest part of him needing that contact, that thrust.

It burnt through him.

Theon's movements became erratic, slow. It was too much, too good, he couldn't move without trembling – he was overwhelmed, pleasure running through his veins, electric and obscene.

Robb's hand left Theon's dick and instead grabbed his throat and clenched it, pressing, and Theon trembled, squirmed. His lips, wet with moans, unravelled in a liquid mess.

And then Robb started pounding, slamming, thrusting harder and deeper. Rough and strong.

And wanted.

Theon closed his eyes, bit his lips, and left all control to him.

And came, spilling over their stomachs, panting and crying in relief.

Robb stared at the white sea foam, picked it up with a finger and ordered.

“Stick out your tongue.”

He cleaned his come-dirty finger over Theon's pulsing tongue and then freed his throat.

Theon moaned, tasting himself, and then writhing.

“Now. - Robb said, his eyes sweet, but his voice commanding and deep – I need your second mouth to swallow all my load, baby.”

And Theon nodded, weakly, before screaming as Robb returned to pounding through him, tearing and breaking.

And all the pain was bliss.

A craved need.

 

29 ASHA

 

_What the fuck._

As she woke up, her head felt heavy, discomfort was a cloud pressing on her eyes, and her mouth felt dry and salty.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and groaned.  _Which fucking time is it? Four AM? Really?_

… _Which fucking saint do I have to corrupt to get one decent night of sleep?_

She sighed, but she knew well enough: the saint protector of heterosexuality who sends away lusting over pretty girls, whoever the fuck that was.

_It's her fault if she lingers in my fucking head. She's too pretty for her own good._

Asha groaned, moving from the sofa, the television blabbering a disconnected white noise, blue light bathing everything.

_I wonder where she is … if she's working, if she has someone pushing through her, unkind and rough and ugly and if their breath itches her, if it feels greasy against her heart. Or if she's home, resting, sitting on a chair, looking out a window, a foot on the floor and one on the chair, contemplative, with her hair slipping from a ponytail that’s not so tight anymore._

_And I wonder how the blue of the night suits her, her dark skin showered by moonlight._

_I want to circle her nipple with my tongue, feel her taste in my mouth, run my fingers down her slit, on her clit, descend with my mouth, kissing every inch of skin those people hurt. Clients. You can't buy a person._

_You can't rent someone._

_If I could, would I?_

_Would I pay? What would I do for her? Which is the price I'd set for my correctness and her dignity: a night, a flinch of a dream, a word of chance?_

_Not that it matters much, though._

She took a packet of cigarettes from behind the sofa and lit one up, breathing in and letting the smoke cleanse those stupid teenage urges and pain and crave. When the ashes accumulated, she'd let the dead border twirl on the rim of an almost empty coffee cup. The content had gotten almost syrupy and dry on the bottom, now to contain a small archipelagos of speckles of dead ash.

The fire trapped inside the ashes always lasted for just a moment, it lingered orange before becoming black and cold.

She liked her dry lips.

She smoked the same cigarettes as her uncle, her favorite. They smelled like his house, full of books, and photographs of her mom when she was young and  _not a fucking demented remain of something bigger and sweeter that she had been_ .

She lit another cigarette soon.

_I should just pay her._

_Fuck her, get her out of my head. You know it's not just that. It can't be more. I don't even really know her. And yet._

_And yet you know it's not just a fuck, Asha, otherwise you would have fucked ten people in the meantime to wash her off your brain._

_It's not love. It's not lust either._

_It's something in between, that sits uncomfortably on my chest and stomach._

_I want her. In ways that are wrong and messy._

_Glimmers of hate and longing. I'm a mess. I'm all shattered bitterness and craving that find no rest._

_The unfelt is louder than anything else, isn't it?_

She stood up, moving to the kitchen, her legs feeling heavy, her head pressing – god, she hated falling asleep, it always messed her up so bad – and mumbled to herself, considering what would have made less damage; tequila or coffee.

She shook her head and forced herself to stick to tap water.

It was lukewarm and tasted bitter.

She groaned. _That's what I get for trying to be a functional human being, really?_

Asha sighed, tapping the rim of the glass with her fingers, as she tried to let Theon's absence sink in.

She was not really used to him not being around anymore.

It terrified her.

She had been terrified every day, every week, every month he had spent in that fucking war.

She spent nights awake, hating him, hating their father, hating herself.

_I could never help him. I just stood by._

_I just let dad hurt him._

_Serve and protect, uh. My ass._

She just hoped this once, this once at least, he wouldn't have chosen to get hurt again.

She rubbed her eyes, looking out the kitchen window, to a full moon that tasted in her mouth like all the possibilities she hadn't gotten.

_Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine … My sins, my own, they belong to me … Oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine._

_She's a bit like him, isn't she?_

_Serve and protect._

She puffed out, bringing the half-extinguished cigarette to her mouth. 

_God, Brienne is gonna hate me for this._

 

30 JEYNE W

 

She ran her fingers through the papers one more time.

No Theona, Theone, Theonie anywhere. Her husband only had two female patients: a fifty-six year old named Grace, who hadn't visited since February, and a certain Peggy, who was hallucinating stuff that was too disturbing for anyone to find the idea of being intimate with her appealing – Jeyne decided.

Her fingers had a cut from all the papers she had turned.

She sighed, looking at the photograph of Robb's family.

He never put up one of them.

She swallowed hard.

_It's because of me. It's because I'm just a dead, arid, barren womb. I'm a desert._

_It's because I cannot make him happy, and I took him with my fears, our fears, and then he... he would deserve a child._

_Is she fertile? Will he make her pregnant?_

_Will he ask the annulment?_

_He could. I am barren. I would. I would. Why am I like this._

_What did I do to deserve this? And he... he has a whore, he has a whore that welcomes his seed and cradles it in her womb and I hate it. It's mine, he's mine, all of him is mine._

_Why can't he love me like this? Why can't I love me like this?_

_Is it too much to ask of you, God, for a baby with pretty auburn hair to run in our garden and call me 'mommy'?_

She took the photo in her hands, she caressed Catleyn's face with her thumb.  _She loathes me._

_She's never going to accept me._

_And Robb loves her so much … I bet his mistress looks just like her._

_I bet she's so pretty, with wide hips and a thin waist, and more feminine than me, I bet she looks like a goddess among women._

_I feel like a skinny, skinless rat._

_Maybe she's even black. I remember once we saw a black couple and Robb turned. Maybe they attract him, they look so feminine and fertile, made to bear._

_My Lutheran lips own the void, my British womb has only a cold lifeless sea inside. I'm sure he thinks so too._

_How did he meet her?_

_How beautiful is she?_

_Oh, please, please, don't let him have kids with someone else, anyone else. He can break me, leave me, but if I can't give him that, nobody should. He got my heart. He got my whole soul._

_It's just fair, just fair, if he goes away, he'll pay a price, he'll lose something._

_He can't win it all._

_He can't have all the good._

_I deserve something too. I deserve one thing, a bit of integrity – I'll keep the house, I'll ask money, I'll claw his eyes out. Does she even know he's married?_

_Robb is not one to lie._

_Then again, did I think him capable of cheating?_

_He drinks so much. His breath stinks at times. I know he takes valium at times, when withdrawal hits him._

_It's my fault. I hope his cock never stands up again. It's my fault. I hope she then cheats on him. It's my fault. He drinks to avoid me. It's my fault. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him._

She only notices the pain when blood drips from the frame.

She was pressing her thumb on the glass of the photo so hard that it had cracked under it.

Fat droplets and a little creek of red.

_Like his hair._

_The hairs on his chest, which I caress for a moment just to feel him turn away._

_The hairs of his beard, from which I can't see a smile since so long._

_The hair on the back of his head, as he steps out of the house._

She felt her useless stomach twist and her empty guts turn to acid.

_What's wrong with me? Why can't you look at me like I look at you? I know I'm wrong._

_Deformed. Useless. Without what matters the most._

_I know I'm a void. With a body attached._

_I know I'm absence._

_But you call to me, you make me rise from the darkness. You build me up from clay._

_Can't you like me, even a bit, for this broken little thing I am?_

Jeyne sniffled and rubbed her hand onto her pencil skirt, mint green mixing with fiery red.

She stood up and sighed, put the folders and the papers back, everything in its place, until Robb's studio was as she had found it. The cracked glass frame that contained the photo she neatly tucked away into her purse. 

She went out and found herself in the tangled ball of yarn of streets swarming with people, pins and needles of existence, and none of them felt real.

She caressed her empty womb.

She had proposed a child to Robb, hoping this would keep him, but she knew it was just wishful thinking.

_I lost everything. I never owned it._

“Jeyne Westerling?”

She turned as she heard her name and, for once, attached to her maiden surname.

And she smiled, recognizing a dear old friend.

He didn't look a day sadder. He had a little beard and his eyes were laughing all the same as they had years ago, and he looked kind and soft.  _And protective._

“Willas Tyrell. - she smiled, stopping caressing her stomach and, instead, holding her hands together, entwining her fingers, she glanced at his black suit – Don't you look fancy!”

He laughed nervously shy and scratched the back of his head.

“Really?”

She looked at his side to find that, yes, he was still using a cane.

She seemed sad, “I had hoped medicine fixed it.”

Willas let out a sparkling laugh and shook his head, amused, “It turned out to be a blessing. - his lips bent in a smile – I avoided the draft.”

She blinked, surprised.

“Oh.”

_Should you really speak of it like this? You hadn't changed at all, had you?_

_You never spent a day blaming anyone for your disgrace or crying about it._

_You've always been a much better person than I am._

_Pain breaks me, shatters me like thin ice. With you... it builds a stronger man._

“I suppose the ways of the Lord are infinite.”, she mumbled, trying not to look at him.

He moved closer, his cane making a small thud on the ground, and he seemed to want to speak, but then he licked his lips and looked at her hand.

“...did you marry?”

She shook, as if awoken brutally and abruptly, and her heart hurt.

“One of the infinite ways.”, she chuckled, sourly.

“I never did. - he admitted, in a smile, then looked away – Turns out women don't find cripples incredibly attractive.”

Jeyne let out a small mouse laugh and shook her head.

“A woman who focuses on such things doesn't deserve you.”

“I suppose it's easy to say for someone as beautiful as you.”, he said, distractedly, without realizing much how it made Jeyne's chest clench.

_You love Robb. Robb. He's just a temptation, he's sent for this, to tempt you. If you resist, if you prove yourself, maybe... maybe my womb... Jeyne, you know that’s bullcrap._

_There is no god._

_And your sterile uterus won't magically become good from something._

_You're pathetic_

“You're too kind.”

_Just do to Robb what he has done to you. It's going to be easy. It's going to feel good._

_Willas cares for you._

_He always has._

“I... wouldn't want to seem out of place. - Willas said, his voice tense as if he had just found the courage to speak up – And I'm sorry if it's improper but...”

“But?”, she asked, too quickly, her heart in her throat, on her sleeve, on the verge of her eyes.

He let out a shy look, “Do you think we could meet for a cup of tea, or coffee... I know you're married, I won't be unbecoming or inappropriate, I... I do enjoy your company and I’ve missed you. I wish to be friends, if that's... - he lowered his eyes – If you'd like to.”

_Temptation._

_Refuse him. Kiss him. Send him away. Pull him close._

_Tell him to leave._

She squeezed her own hand, feeling her cheeks hot and her belly filled with an uncomfortable joy.

“I would love to.”

 

31 JAIME

 

Jaime whistled, passing the woollen rag over the wooden counter.

The scent of the changing season was slapping the windows, brought by the breeze, and Jaime found himself smiling wide, half-dancing and humming.

“Someone is in a good mood.”

Jaime turned, feeling suddenly very naked and caught red-handed.

Embarrassment rushed to his face, heating it up.

“Bronn, I was... just...”

“Singing? - he scoffed – I'm taking your dating life became less deserted.”

“Are you here to bring me new bottles or to make sarcastic remarks?”

Bronn shrugged his shoulders, “It's the only free thing I have to offer you.”

Jaime tried to avoid laughing.

“Your prices also went up. - Jaime complained, looking at Bronn going back and forth, putting liqueur and beer cases in the back room – I have to sell stuff at a human price, you know?”

Bronn shrugged, putting down a beer box and counting the ones around, “Well, I've got to take care of my family too, you know, not everyone is a rich, peach-state high class, handsome bachelor.”

Jaime frowned, then scoffed.

“Wait. What? You're married?”

“Yeah.”

Jaime's voice turned into a twisted, troubled shriek, “Since _when_ ?”

“Since Monday. - he said, as if it were the most obvious thing – She's carrying a child, so.”

“You got her pregnant?”

Bronn lowered his look and breathed in, then he cleared his voice. “Lollys has been through a lot.”

Jaime frowned, “...it's not yours?”

“If I'll raise it, he will be. Sons are of those who take care of them.”

The old wound stung and pain flinched through him.

Jaime forced himself to smile, while he felt his nerves burn.

_My children._

_Those children who are not mine at all._

“...oddly romantic for you.”, he replied, voice hoarse.

“Look. - Bronn put down a case – How many years have we known each other? Six? Seven? Have you ever heard me talking about my father? There's a reason. - he scratched his nape – When I was a kid, schools were still divided, Lollys has a good family, but she's alone. I'm not going to make that child grow up alone.”

Jaime nodded, sourly.

“You didn't strike me as an activist.”

“I'm not. - Bronn returned to moving the boxes – Her family will be a good deal.”

_It's not solely about that, is it?_

_You don't care for the girl in that way, but you care for what will be of this baby._

_Maybe this makes you a better person than me._

_Probably._

_I have taken every easy road I could: I stayed with my sister in silence when I could have left the family money, I accepted to never help raise my children in order to keep love in my life, for years I worked a job my father approved of before buying this place, I avoided the draft with his money._

_A country had bled, invaded, the other invading, and in both, thousands of people lost their limbs or minds, and_ _here I am, whole and fit and ungrateful._

_I left my family after they spared me from invalidity or madness._

_What does that make me?_

_I wonder what mom would have thought._

_She probably would have just held me and tell me everything was going to be alright, without fully believing it, but knowing that's all a child wants to hear._

_Because life is a scary movie and it lasts way too long._

… _. I wonder if she would have liked her._

_She probably would have, I think._

_Or maybe it's just that I like her that much, I can't conceive there to be opposite opinions._

“Bronn. Next month, maybe I should double the order.”

“Don't get so sappy you go broke, peach-face.”, he said, then laughed to himself, as if he found Jaime so ridiculous.

 

32 THEON

 

Theon could barely feel his limbs.

It was a good sensation. Soothing.

He was so used to being hyperaware of them: pain riding the rims of his old fingers, phantom cramps tearing where his toes once were, his missing teeth pulsing in his gums when he ate. Numbness felt like a fucking blessing.

He smiled wide and rolled on his side, staring at Robb, who, eyes closed and low breath, was as exhausted as him.

“I'm too old to go at it for hours.”, he said, laughing weakly, without opening his eyes.

Theon smirked and kissed his earlobe, before whispering, warmly.

“You're not old enough to use that excuse.”

Robb laughed and turned slightly, kissing Theon slowly, their lips caressing gently, tasting each other's softness, before slipping in for a deeper, longed for depth.

Robb opened his sleepy eyes slowly.

“You're a damn siren.”

Theon chuckled, “You’ve said that already. - he warned him, then ran his fingers down Robb's chest, playing with his hairs – We should return to the city. I have to work later.”

“Hm. - Robb breathed in – I need to pass by my office for a moment before, if you don't mind.”

“Need to pick up your next patient-lover?”

Robb laughed, “No, though, I would indeed need to work, I postponed a lot of appointments.”

Theon hummed, circling Robb's dark nipple, teasing it.

“Yeah, I’m kind of mostly into you for the money. - he said, jokingly, with a little smile perking up on his lips – So, you see, I need you to maintain a certain life style.”

Robb snorted. 

“You're such a poor liar.”

“Hey! - Theon smirked – Accusing me of lying now? That's just so mean.”

“I see you're being playful...”, Robb caressed Theon's hip.

“What if I am?”

“Then I should play with you, I think.”, Robb replied, grinning, and let his hand slide, circling Theon's shaft, dragging out of his mouth a breathless gasp.

Theon's eyes shone. Wickedness, hunger.

He put his hands around Robb's neck and bent forward to kiss him again, softly, slowly, sucking and biting his bottom lip before releasing it and dipping into his mouth with his tongue.

Robb's hand grabbed his cock, jerking it, fisting it hard, while the thumb rubbed gently on the crown and the tip, making Theon's hips jerk and jolt.

Robb's mouth twitched, a little grin.

_You love the shot of control just as much as I love not having it, don’t you?_

_It's almost cute._

Theon moaned, his hips rolling, he found himself bucking, needy against Robb's hand, against the smoldering touch, craving more and more of it.

It made his skin shimmer in shivers.

Heat ran through his veins like a dense hurricane, a storm twitching through his blood, coagulating and pooling in his desperate cock.

Theon felt Robb's smile against his ear, he was having fun, wasn't he?

_God, never leave._

_Never ever leave me._

_Theon, you can't need him, you can't need people, you know what happens. You cannot depend on him, he'll crush you, he'll break you. He won't. Not him. Everyone does. Not him._

_He cares._

_He is no Ramsay, he is no Euron. He's mine and mine alone. He's married. He's mine because he cares. Then why doesn't he say it?_

Theon shook in shivers, quivered, whimpered and writhed, as Robb's hand pressed and teased his cock tip into pure bliss.

Arousal rode his spine, stirred the blood in his veins, drove him insane.

_He feels like home._

_I can't leave._

His fingernails sank into Robb's back and he let out an aroused grunt, his own cock getting harder.

Theon raised one of his thighs slightly and caressed Robb's erection through the jeans, dragging low, dark groans out of him.

Theon could feel himself getting close, on the verge of coming against Robb's hand.

_He will leave. He won't, he won't._

_How do you trust him so much? He knows, he knows and stayed despite it. Maybe it's pity, maybe he finds you pathetic because you let someone rape you. You were a soldier, you were supposed to be strong. Robb is not like that._

_He cares._

_He just wants to spend himself into your ass._

Robb moved away then, and for a moment Theon blinked, worried, then he just screamed, closing his eyes again, panting hard. Robb's mouth was around his aching cock, sucking him fully.

“Oh, oh, fuck.”

He felt Robb's smile around his cock, his hand still teasing first his balls and then his twitching hole.

Theon arched his back, thrusting very slowly into Robb's mouth, while he bobbed it.

And then Robb slipped two fingers in Theon's still wet hole, his come of before and the Vaseline allowing him to slide so easily to the prostate.

_Oh, fuck, fuck._

_You're such a slut. Oh, shut the fuck up. I'm here, I'm safe, I'm safe. I'm safe. He will hurt you just like I did. He will hurt you like we did. He won’t. How can you tell?_

_I trust him._

“More. - he screamed, breathless, clenching Robb close – More, please.”

Robb grinned and pushed in a third finger, pressing harder on the prostate, while his hot tongue ran over the shaft, then circled the little blooming rims of the head’s base, just before siding over the sensitive, raw head, pulsing with desire, leaking.

Robb took the head in and out again, sucking it, accompanying every hit to the prostate with sucking or whipping Theon's cock with his hot tongue.

_So heavy, so big, fuck, fuck._

Theon moaned, and then bit Robb's shoulder, still scratching it.

Robb drove harder into him, pleased, a wide grin on his lips, as he played to break Theon to pieces, shatter him into pleasure. 

“You're a mess.”, he whispered onto his cock, before slapping it. He dragged his teeth along the base, and then tortured the tip again, sucking it, while jerking the shaft and pressing mercilessly onto Theon's spot.

Theon shuddered, his toes curled, his back arched. He threw his head back and came, spilling into Robb's mouth.

And yet his cock was still half hard, pulsing, overwhelmed and oversensitive, when Robb, pleased, sucked the head more, still pushing his fingers deep and hard into the soft, needy spot.

Theon sucked his lips, then bit Robb's shoulder again, giving up.

Trying to muffle his moans was useless, and his voice was a high-pitched, ruined mess, liquid against Robb's back, twisted and wicked.

He came over and over, until his eyes rolled back and his hips ached. He clung onto him, claiming him and Robb drove harder and rougher, pounding.

Robb looked like he loved it, almost even more than coming himself: the way Theon trembled, begged, moaned, the way his hips were giving up and his whole body was reduced to a desperate, needy eagerness for him.

Theon screamed again, muffled until it sounded like along, aroused, slutty moan.

And he came dry with empty shivers.

At that point, he couldn't feel his legs at all, barely his own raw cock, just his lungs pumping air in and out, slowly and heavily.

_I trust him._

_I love him._

_I'm so, so, so fucked._

Theon closed his eyes, trying to breathe in more, and as he reopened them he saw Robb smiling in front of him. Handsome and perfect with autumn in his hair and heaven in his eyes.

_As if someone like him could …_

Robb caressed Theon's hair, and then lifted his chin ever so slightly.

“Can I kiss you?”, he asked, softly.

Theon smiled, hesitant, then turned into a flirty smirk, “You must.”

Robb's lips tasted salty and his tongue was warm and wide inside him, Theon moaned against it, feeling a wordless sensation filling his chest.

A good one.

Then he felt something hard against his thigh.

He raised his eyebrow and looked down at it, biting his lips in a grin.

“Should I pump that?”

Robb smiled before giving him a commanding look that brought shivers down Theon's spine, setting alight every nerve.

“You must.”

Theon's eyes shone.

They would have returned to the office way later, he guessed.

 

33 JEYNE P

 

“Look. - Asha sighed, arms visible on the table, extended towards her, her hands playing with each other, thumb on wrist, distractedly, but her voice sounded honest, she didn't look at her, at first, just at the papers – We just want Baelish.”

Jeyne raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Do I look stupid, officer?”

Asha blinked at that. Confused, yet oddly intrigued.

“No. Quite the opposite, that's why I hope you'll take the deal.”

Jeyne sucked her lips and looked around, as if she wanted to know who was watching and hearing them. She looked at Asha again.

_She didn't handcuff me. She didn't strike me._

_She could._

_Even if she's a woman, she could hurt me, she has arms big enough for it … why am I looking at her arms, god._

She cleared her throat, trying to keep a clear and unfazed expression, “And why are you.... suggesting it to me, exactly? And not to one of the other girls.”

Asha licked her lips, suffocating a cough.

“You're young. - she said, looking down at the papers, her voice friendly but suddenly shy and that didn't escape Jeyne – You could get a new life.”

“I'm not the youngest.”, Jeyne pointed out.

“You’re one smart cookie. - Asha snorted, then bit her bottom lip and leaned forward, gulping down slowly – I think you could use some help.”

Jeyne frowned, stared, sucked her lips, “I'm not different from the other girls. I don't deserve salvation particularly more than them. - she chuckled, sourly – So why me?”

Her glance was on Asha's neck.

It didn't work as well as with men, but she could still distinguish the clench, the gulp, the swallow. And Asha moving her eyes away from her.

She saw it.

At least ten times.

That shame, that secrecy, that tension-stained, purple quietness.

She blinked, a small “Oh” escaping her lips.

Asha scratched her neck and hair and looked away, unwilling to even lie. 

“Look. Take the deal. - she said, still stubbornly avoiding to cross their looks – It may be unfair, but if you get it, you will be free... sometimes we have to accept bad things if they bring good ones.”

_Don't speak like you know bad things._

_Your bad things are colleagues pressuring you and paying rent. My bad things are men who turn off cigars on my ass or who want to see if I can fit the bottle they just quaffed empty and guzzled grossly in my ass._

_My bad things are hands I don't know and that I don't want and my breast squeezed and bitten and my cries being mocked and how loud am I supposed to keep my voice to make them think I came while they hurt me._

_My bad things are all the times it hurt so much I wished I'd just die from it._

_But it never happened._

_It never happens._

_And when I stopped wanting to die, when I started craving life again, instead of a blessing I got a baptism of come and bruises. And I started to compromise, to adapt, to be a good actress and an obedient hooker, hoping I'll save up enough to one day buy my own freedom and not need to do this thing until my fifties._

_You are just like them._

Jeyne furrowed her eyebrows, then. Realizing something was missing.

… _you're not like them at all, though._

“...and you are... not asking anything from me?”

Asha stiffed and shook her head, as a child who had just tasted bitter lemon, “No! - she scoffed, almost outraged – I, take this like... life mixing your cards. This time, you've got a good hand, for once.”

Jeyne's chestnut eyes shone softly.

_Is she... real? Nothing?_

_Is she doing this for... me? For my own good? For my happiness?_

_Why would she... even actually care?_

She lowered her look, playing with her own hands, fidgeting. Then the warmth turned to ice, as she realized she couldn't take those cards.

_Not if I want to live._

“I.... you will never get Baelish. - her voice trembled – He's too involved.”

Asha grabbed her hand, without thinking. She held it.

And Jeyne remembered when she could trust her dad to protect her.

_He used to say everything was going to be alright. And nothing was ever alright, but I used to believe him._

_I so did …_

“Jey. - Asha murmured, her voice confident, and this time they locked eyes and, for a moment, Jeyne forgot everything she hated about cops – I want to be honest with you: I... kind of had to force the hand of my partner and our boss to give you this chance. - then Asha cursed – Whoa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like that... look, my brother lost half of his toes and a good bouquet of fingers and teeth in Vietnam. - her voice got lower, softer, her eyes darker with heaviness and sincerity – I get why you wouldn’t trust the big guys' decisions, I do, but this is a genuinely good deal.”

“He'll kill me.”

“I'll make a colander out of his ass before I let him.”

Jeyne let out a small laugh and sucked her lips. Her thumb caressed Asha's hand.

“You're funny for a cop.”

Asha let out a nervous chuckle, overcome by the sudden inability to think logically and cool-headedly. 

“Don't say that, it will go to my head.”

Jeyne showed her a tentative smile, but fear was still there, hanging at the corners of her mouth.

_Oh, no, Jey, please. Don't trust her so blindly._

_Are we really trusting them just like this?_

_You’re plunging into danger, Jey, you stupid fucking girl. Trusting a cop?_

She flinched. “I'm sorry for your brother.”

Asha blinked, surprised, “Thank you.”

“For the matter. - Jeyne's eyes were lucid – He has a good sister. He'll get better soon. - Jeyne shook her head and her smile got wider, candied – You kind of seem like the type of cop that takes care of people.”

“Most are good, you know, we're not that scary.”

_I wish I could believe you._

_But some of you come to us all the same. Some of you come into the black girl and slap her, telling her they hope they bred her. I’ve sucked off some of your colleagues – they taste the same as every other client._

_The blue doesn't stain the skin. It doesn't sink through._

_They're red flesh._

“From the road, you all look... very armed and very angry.”, she admitted, weakly.

Asha rolled her eyes ironically, “What do I have to do to convince you we're good, stubborn girl?”

_I wish I had some trust left._

Jeyne looked at the papers in front of her and finally took a pen to sign them.

“Don't screw me up.”

_God knows enough people took a turn at that._

 

34 ROBB

 

_She was here._

He knew immediately as he stepped in. Jeyne had a way of fixing things up a bit too perfectly, too precisely, and the photograph of his family was gone.

_She was here. She suspects I'm seeing someone …_

Robb sighed, licking his lips. He rested his mouth against his hand and breathed in nervously, sitting himself down behind his desk.

_Don't cry, please. I beg of you._

His eyes hurt and pinched. He felt it coming, he felt the need of it, but nothing would come out.

_Don't cry, don't cry, he doesn't need that._

As Theon came in the studio he frowned, worried, his voice got so small it cracked.

“Robb, what's...”

“I keep repeating to myself that I'm not a piece of shit... - Robb chuckled – That I... that I just got sucked into things, but where is the limit of justification?”

“...Robb?”

He swallowed.

_God, how... how do I say this?_

_Will you hate me after? You should._

_I should. I do._

“I'm a cheater.”, he let out.

“I... know?”, Theon furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head.

“Yeah. That's... bad. - Robb chuckled sourly – It's fucking bad.”

“You're homosexual, baby. You can't blame yourself for it.”

“And who should I blame then? - he almost shouted, his eyes now lucid _please don't cry please don't cry please don't cry Robb please please please_ – I grew up with … certain values and yeah, maybe religion is not one I want to keep or heterosexuality one that I can even keep, but … responsibility? Accountability? Those are.”

“Robb.. - Theon shook his head, moved his hand, held Robb's – You always take on more responsibilities than the ones you even have.”

“Yes, but not on this.”

“You're in this situation because you thought she was pregnant...”

“I'm in this situation because I didn't want to be a faggot!”, Robb yelled, standing up in a rush, letting the chair fall behind him and hit the ground.

It must have made a sound.

But he didn't hear it.

Theon swallowed heavily, his hands returning to his lap, closing slowly.

Words became stones.

Air scratched like sandpaper.

“... I suppose I can get that.”

Robb bit his lips, “I'm a married man, I'm... taken and here I am, damning myself, finding excuses, deviating truths, telling lies... There are only two options: or I cut you or her and, god, I – ”

Theon closed his eyes, preparing to receive a blow.

But it didn't come.

Robb let out a chuckle, shrugged, his shoulders going from tight to defeated.

“I fell in love with you.”

Theon blinked.

“W...what?”

_I love you. I do._

_And I hate that I do, because all my thoughts should be of her and I should give her the respect of not even thinking about someone else, I should be loyal. But loyalty is not a virtue when it lacks honesty, is it?_

_This whole... affair, it makes me feel dirty, it makes me feel like festering garbage shaped like a person. But it also makes me feel like I'm a person._

_Alive. Full of light. And like I'm not wrong._

_You make me feel like I found a place of peace – and the sea storms you bring, and the thunders you foster, taste as sweet as summer rain._

_And the guilt tears me apart and pours salt in my wounds and you heal them all._

_I dream of your lips, and it makes no sense, and I'm scared, because this feels sacred. There are pins and needles under my skin at the thought of you._

_And I'm home._

“I know it's too soon and I know that... that we come from a rough patch and this is highly, highly unprofessional, but...”

“Me too.”

_What._

_Wait._

“Really...?”

Theon laughed, “Do you think I... would have opened up like I did if I weren't, I mean, I knew you were married, I didn't want to expect things, but hoping... is-”

Robb smiled from ear to ear, “You're blushing.”

“Grown men don't blush.”

“Some do.”, Robb cooed, biting his lips and smiling more.

Theon lowered his eyes, “What are we going to do?”

Robb breathed in, “I'll tell her tonight.”

Theon blinked.

“Tonight? - the corners of his lips couldn't bow, they were pulled up in the softest, brightest smile – Will you... tell her about us or...?”

“About me.”

Theon felt the air leave his lungs and only bitterness and fear remain, inconsistent and omnipresent between his ribs, heavy as lead.

“Are you counting on her pride?”

“I don't want you to pay the consequences, plus... - he breathed in – It may be the only way to keep my licence, if she doesn't know about you.”

Theon sucked his lips.

“... I hadn't thought about that.”

“I've been a horrible therapist to you. - Robb admitted, laughing – But I'd... rather keep my job.”

Theon smiled, “You've been unprofessional and unorthodox, but... you've been the best therapist I’ve ever had.”

“I promise my methods are usually different.”

Theon smirked, flirty, “I sure hope so.”

“Go to work, I'll come to you after I’ve talked to her.”

 

35 BRIENNE

 

Brienne sighed and groaned, staring at the papers.

“I hope you know... - she started, without looking at Asha – That you cannot be more involved than this in the case.”

Asha shrugged, her hands in her pants pockets.

_Between the lazy posture and the attitude, she looks more like a man than me, even with my height. Rolled up sleeves, making her crotch look big with the pocketed hands, and that look like nothing matters and she's going to do what she wants anyway, whatever I do._

_She's a loose cannon._

_I suppose I like her for that too … at times._

“I just ask to... protect her.”

Brienne raised an eyebrow, “You want to be her security guard?”

Asha shrugged again, faking an aplomb she didn't possess, “I'd rather call it escort, but... fine, yes, that's all I ask.”

“You... do know that's a horrible idea, right?”

“Why?”, Asha scoffed, faking ignorance.

_Uh, because you like her? And you'll throw yourself in danger and risk death more than your duty commands?_

_And all of this not considering an investigation may happen._

“You already have to take care of your brother. - Brienne said, it was not a lie – I don't think you should face other forms of stress.”

“Oh, really? - Asha scoffed, incredulous, her voice straining in anger – My duty is to protect people.”

Brienne sighed, looking away.

“Your duty to your family is to get your ass back to your house safely.”, she argued, coldly firm, no objection admitted.

“This is our case, Bri. - Asha shut her up – We built it together, we checked the zone every fucking day, we rummaged through every document all together.”

“I know. - Brienne swallowed – Trust me, I don't like to do this.”

“Then don't.”

_It's not so easy._

“The favor you asked me. - Brienne said then – It makes me think I cannot count on you being cool-headed with this case.”

“Don't... use her against me.”

_God, you stubborn ass._

“It's not against you if it's to save your life.”

Asha's eyes glared and she laughed, black thunders twisted in her enraged voice, and she stared at Brienne like a horse refusing to be tamed.

“I don't need you to save me, middle-class girl.”

A groan. Then a sigh.

_She could have said things that would be way more hurtful. We both know what would break me._

… _does she just want me to know she's furious without hurting me?_

Brienne's lips trembled, “I don't want to exclude you from the case, I just want to make sure you don't do shit like shooting too quickly out of the wish to protect her or jump in front of her and that you don't compromise the work and your health.”

“Yeah, god forbid _a dyke_ can be professional.”

Then Brienne snapped, “I didn't say that word and you know it.”

_Don't act like you don't know me or like I'm that type of person. I'm just trying to protect you, god, why do you have to make it so hard for someone to take care of you._

_Caring doesn’t mean putting fucking reins on you._

Asha understood she went too far and crossed her arms, breathing out and putting on an angry frown.

… _and yet, I perfectly know how many times I've had men take control of my work._

_That's also why we like to work together, no? Because of how different we are, of how opposite our approach is, we know we respect each other._

_I'd never push you down or doubt you._

_I'm just not sure if I'd have the ability to keep calm, if Jaime were in Jeyne's place._

_So how can I ask it of you?_

Brienne sighed.

“What about this: you get to pick her security officer.”

Asha bit her lips. She still seemed angry but she looked around, weighting her options, as she realized that was a good one. 

She grunted, “Really?”

Brienne gave a small smile, “Whoever you trust enough with this. - a pause – With her.”

“Fine. - Asha nodded to herself – You.”

Brienne frowned, perplexed, “We... just... had a fight?”

“You're the tallest. - Asha shrugged, then gave her a proud smirk – And you're the only person I know who'd try to take down seven drunk rapists without even a fully-loaded gun.”

Brienne shook her head, “I didn't have a choice.”

“The fact you think you didn't is why I want you.”

… _but Jeyne is no Willow._

_And if I let something happen to her, what will be of you? And of your trust in me?_

“I will. - she accepted, unwillingly – But you owe me one.”

“Two, considering you found my brother a job.”

_Hm._

_I wonder how that boy is doing. But I can't really ask that now... Asha has enough worries as it is._

“You found it for him.”

“You kind of seduced his boss. - Asha grinned – It's the type of corruption I appreciate.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, “Jaime wouldn't have hired him just for that.”

“Hm-hm, how noble.”

Asha's eyes fell on Brienne's chest, her shoulders, the way the chopped hair fell on her neck.

“Are you letting it grow?”

Brienne shivered, blinking and letting out a nervous laugh, “I just forgot to cut it, that's all.”

“Hm... - Asha grinned – I'm taking you feel more comfortable.”

“You don't need to spell everything you think out loud.”, Brienne mumbled.

Her smirk turned into a chuckle, “Well, my other theory was that it was to hide hickeys, so …”

“Asha, I swear to god-”

She laughed loudly.

“Can't I be happy my friend got a nice man?”

_The thing is I can't believe it yet._

_And when you laugh, I wonder if it's all going to turn out to be a joke. Again._

_The idea that someone could want me... even though I know it's true, it's like it can't sink down deep in me._

_Film covers my heart, making it impermeable to this truth._

_That Jaime could want me and not see me as something mediocre to settle for … I can know and not know at the same time._

_It can be so real it scorches me._

_And it still doesn't feel as real as the laughs I heard ten years ago._

She forced herself to smile, “Of course, of course you can.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

36\. THEON

 

He sighed, pouring the amber liquid into the glass.

The client rose it, to thank him, and chugged it down, before slamming the glass on the counter.

Theon knew he was supposed to stop pouring only when Jaime said to, but he couldn't help but worry.

There was something that creeped him out in the sleek, wet film on the eyes of that drunk guy, it made shivers run up his spine, twisting and twirling like poison ivy. It came through the cracks of his mind and the tingling of the ice in the glass suddenly echoed like the keys in Ramsay's hand.

The little waterfall of spices ran across the glass surface as the man started to sip the liquid slowly this time.

After the swing, he let out a snorted, disgusted noise.

“Lost those in a mousetrap, kiddo?”, he asked, his voice tasting like ashes.

Theon flinched. He swallowed a heavy cement gobble, with spikes that cut his throat from the inside out with bitterness – salt poured in his wounds at the memory.

And his heart pulsed all around his body, the thoughts his mind made horrible and tangible and real.

“Vietnam. - he replied, almost in a whisper – Got caught.”

The man scoffed, “You were not very good, then. – he clanked the glass against the bottle and Theon poured more amber – Fucking dinks.”

Theon swallowed down dry.

_He was no dink, no gook, no insult you can throw from just looking at him._

_He had eyes like ice when the dirt from days past sinks over its surface. His voice was rancid milk like his sour skin._

_And he took away everything._

_Fingers, teeth, strength._

“ _You're such a tender thing, Theon, aren't you? Made to be fucked. Made to be mistreated. You are no man.”_

A livid, bruised, ardent glare echoed through his spine, fucked him awake, and thunderstruck him to reality.

Ramsay was not gone. Not at all, not ever.

He lived beyond him, too deep inside.

In the sewers of his soul, in the lock of his mind.

There was not a place in the world or inside himself where Ramsay wouldn't have found him and tore his mind apart again. He was not safe, not completely, not ever.

“I suppose.”, Theon shrugged and moved away.

“When we win, we will nuke the shit out of them.”, the man said, and Theon knew he meant well.

But it was too awful. And too untrue.

He didn't want to nuke anyone, he didn't want anyone to die – he just wanted to feel alive without wishing to die, he just wanted to be safe.

To find a cocoon, a hideaway.

_Somewhere where thistle and weeds don't cover my mind and grow like ivy and thorns sinking through my skull and liver._

He didn't need nukes, he needed to survive himself.

_I need to stop drowning in the rain of his voice echoing through my hollow bones._

“We won't win.”

The man scoffed and snorted, but Theon knew he knew that too; he could feel it on the surface of the liquid, how heavy it felt inside his throat, like a hand clenching it shut.

And he let out a dizzy snarl.

“Not with people like you.”

“I change very little, I promise. - a sad smirk – I'm not that important.”

 

37\. ASHA

 

She groaned, rolling her eyes, and loudly letting out grunts, while crossing her legs, keeping her feet on the dashboard with careless resilience.

Brienne glared at her, unnerved, “Asha. Stop.”

“No.”, she retorted, with a bickering tone that reminded Brienne of what having siblings was supposed to be like.

She barely remembered it, but she forced herself not to dwell on the sticky, slimy, blue sensation that crawled in her stomach.

She felt all crooked.

Asha licked her lips, sucked them.

She had something of Jaime’s: those stubborn heads, always trying to shrug off their shoulders how many things pushed their heads under water. Brienne could recognize the bitterness unique to their faces when their facade smiles fell deaf and dull.

“She'll be fine.”

“I'd be more reassured if I could be there with you. - Asha grumbled, sipping her coffee from a paper mug – Instead, I have to wait to get info by ambushing you during your coffee break.”

Brienne breathed out and glanced at her, “She's fine, and you should go home to your brother.”

“He's working. - she pointed out, annoyed – She signed a deal with us, she should be protected at all times, why did you go so far away for your break?”

_What if she gets hurt? What if they slap her? What if that piece of shit finds out? What if he hurts her and you're not there? And I'm not there?_

_I promised to protect her._

_I promised._

_I already failed her by leaving her in someone else's hands and now – Maron, Rodrik too, Theon, Theon above all. He was the smallest. Smaller than me. “You will take care of Theon, right, baby? Mom needs to go out for a moment, please, check on him.” “You love your baby brother, don't you?” “He cries all the time!” “That's what kids do.” “I didn't!” “You love your baby brother, don't you?” “Will you take care of him?” “Good morning, is this Asha Greyjoy? I’m calling to inform you, we’ve given your brother a discharge, will you be his caregiver?” “He cries all the time!” “That's what kids do, that's what broken people do.” “I'm sorry I was the one to come back.”_

_Theon above all of them._

_So small, with limbs as thin as paper and blue shadows all over his body like a film of desperation._

_I remember the day he came into this world. All red and screaming._

_Where has all that strength gone? When did his claim melt away?_

_Did I vanish due to me? Was it my fault? Was it others'?_

_In the blue waters of mom's love, we were never the same, he was beautiful and whole and surged out of it delicate and sacred. I had to be bold._

_Maybe._

_Maybe that's when it started, my fear to have you slip from my fingers, break on the ground – all porcelain and heart – shatter all over._

_People always seem to shatter when I don't hold them._

_I can't leave them alone. They can't do it. I don't want them to be hurt. I don't want them to need to be bold._

_They can't be. They are the precious ones._

Brienne looked at her in annoyance, but then she gulped down, looked away, trying to find a way not to be harsh.

“She was with a client, he booked her for a while. I figured staying out there would be too suspicious.”

_Ah._

A chuckle, a snort, “Of course.”

_What did I think it was._

Her knuckles got white and her coffee cup twisted and cracked bent.

_I'm so bad at this … what am I supposed to do? Accept it? Shut up? I cannot even tell her, I cannot do anything about it except grow frustrated._

_I want her to be free from those men._

_But it will burn me also when she chooses one. I will endure it and smile and act fine, or rush away._

_I want to save her and be a good person, but the part of me who wants to win her won't be satisfied fully. I suppose it makes me a shitty person._

_And a horrible police officer._

Brienne sucked her lips wet and red, “You're too involved.”

“You have no idea what you're speaking about.”

“Look, she needs to have clients to collect proof, you can't just compromise it all or fry your stomach from jealousy.”

Brienne was right, of course.

But it didn't matter.

Asha breathed in and bit the inside of her cheek until the irony, thick flavor of blood washed over her tongue.

“If something happens to her,”

“It won't.”, Brienne promised, a hand on Asha's shoulder.

Asha shivered and flinched at the contact, sinking further into her seat.

Brienne squinted her eyes, “Are you fine?”

_No._

_I thought I could trust you with this, but I can't trust anyone. As soon as control washes away from my hands, I panic._

“Yes. - Asha nodded nervously – You know, I'm just...”

“A control freak.”

“I'm not! - she scoffed, scandalized – I'm easy-going and smooth.”

“Yeah. - Brienne groaned, unimpressed – And the second you’re not the one leading, you go into uncooperative mode.”

“...perhaps.”

“Will you trust me?”

“I will.”

Brienne smiled, proud, “Good, then how about you go spy on your brother and check how he's doing?”

Asha raised an eyebrow, “My brother or your boyfriend?”

Brienne rolled her eyes to the ceiling of the car, sighing deeply.

“Who do you take me for?”

“Someone with self-esteem issues.”

Brienne laughed at that and replied, grinning, “Perhaps.”

 

38\. ROBB

 

Her fingers caress the newspaper.

It's freshly printed and a thin, grey fog stains her fingertips – she looks at it, does nothing.

_You never want to change anything, do you?_

_Unmoveable, still, a heart of marble and feet rooted in the ground._

_You’d rather be still in a situation where we both suffocate than try to live differently._

_And I suppose I've been the same. Maybe that's why I loathed you so._

_Now I just feel pity and guilt._

Robb sat on the kitchen chair and breathed in. A tender breeze came inside from the window, it made the white curtain dance, and brought in the scent of ripe peaches and tangy honeysuckles.

Jeyne looked almost sick.

“We have to talk.”

She glanced at him, then raised her eyebrows while squinting her eyes.

“The sleeping beauty woke up. To what do I owe this inconceivable honor?”

Robb blinked. He looked at her side, then on the counter of the kitchen.

He squinted his eyes, “Have you been drinking?”

“What? That's your prerogative?”, her voice didn't sound drunk, only angry, raw, hoarse.

Honest, perhaps, for once.

“I, well. - Robb clacked his tongue against his palate and sighed – It's not the best coping mechanism that you could exercise.”

“What about fucking someone else behind your back?”

Robb froze. His eyes turned from ocean to still horror.

He swallowed down, hard and heavy – he could feel his skin cracking and peeling, leaving him naked with pulsing, raw flesh.

He was bleeding out the guilt.

His Adam's apple clenched in a suffocating knot.

_For Theon, Robb._

_For her too._

_They deserve it._

_I know you cannot do it for yourself, Robb, but for them, for them you have to be able to._

“So you know …”

Jeyne breathed in, licked the split between her lips, nodding weakly, her hands held the empty mug from which she had drank before.

“We have honeydew in the fridge. - she murmured, caressing the ceramic rim – I got it because you like it.”

“Jey.”

Robb opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

_How do you express something like that?_

_How do you justify hurting someone and not caring? Breaking promises and oaths?_

_Giving up on them?_

_I love him._

“Is she younger?”

_I can't tell her. She may find him._

“Couple years older than me.”

She seemed surprised, but not comforted.

_Did you want to blame it on age? To excuse me with foolishness? Or a biological imperative? Are you making excuses for me?_

_And why does it anger me?_

_Why do I resent you for trying to defend me to yourself?_

“Prettier?”

Robb didn't reply, unsure of how to formulate an answer without revealing too much, but Jeyne just nodded to herself, resigned.

_I can't even say it's not about the body._

_I can't lie to you to protect you. It didn't work._

Jeyne breathed in and caressed her arms, as if she were freezing – cold crawled through her and sank into her, she could feel her veins turning white with the snow of his silence.

Her lips trembled and her eyes shone with the weak, sly film of tears she choked down.

Her voice came out thin and strained, with still a hint of the defense she needed to put up.

To pretend not to be crumbling.

_I have to allow her at least this – at least to act like I can't see the iron wire under her trembling cracked smile, keeping her up as she turns to dust in front of my eyes._

“What do you want?”, she asked, looking down.

The perlaceous fatiscent white of the mug shone so cold, and the sweet scented breeze from outside had turned sour and not much seemed to matter again, not for long, anyway, not for much.

She had a shard of ice stuck through her larynx.

And her voice twisted all high and bitter with its edge.

“Do you want me to forgive you?”

_No._

_I want you to let me go._

Robb clenched his fists and forced out a smile.  _No, I cannot say that._

_That would be too much. Too unkind._

“I cannot forgive myself, Jey. - he swallowed, scratching his arm, the hairs drawing lines spiking with cold – I think we should take different ways.”

She tried to scoff.

She just sobbed.

_Don't make it harder. I won't change my mind. I don't have to change it. I can't change it._

Her eyes pooled with tears, shining sad and slow down her cheeks.

_Please._

_Please, just this once... let me not give up._

“If that's what you want, don't pretend it has anything to do with my dignity. - she sucked her lips – Don't I deserve honesty, Robb?”

_But do you want it?_

_And where do I stop? I have someone? It's a man? I'm a homosexual? I've known since before we married? I never loved you? I thought I knocked you up that night and it felt like I was being punished for being homosexual and then when it turned out you weren’t pregnant I thought our whole marriage was a punishment and a chain from god? I fucked you hoping I could come the gay out of me?_

_Where do you trace the line? The border before it’s too much? Where do you place the edge of the razor you want me to sink into you?_

_What if to pierce your muscle, I find the lung and take all the air away from you?_

_What if I hollow out your heart trying to give you peace?_

_I played by the rules. I tried to do what I was supposed to._

_How could I predict being righteous would turn me unfair?_

_And how could I predict only in unfairness I would have ever felt right?_

_Am I supposed to tell you you're the mirror of water that reflects black mountains and blinding heights, but that as I walk into you I drown instead of finding high air to breathe?_

_I want the sky. I want to live in the way I feel free._

_And not wet and pulled out, drenched and heavy, striving to capture a silver, shattered moon and catch it in ropes and nets, seeing them sinking in the liquid void of the waves …_

_I love him._

_Should I tell you the truth?_

_Do you want it?_

_Do you want to hear it's over and done and closed? Are you ready to hate me or risk not to?_

_Should I tell you that I’ve lost perception of my own body because when I’m with him I just feel like we're warmth mixing and pieces coming together? Should I tell you of the voice of his skin calling me to kiss it red? Should I bleed out the shame and the guilt that comes with it – and would it do any good to your wounds?_

_Or would it feel like I’m mocking you or as a last try in getting you not to resent me?_

_You don't want the truth. Nobody does._

_You want me to be a jerk – maybe I am – so you'll lick your wounds safe and whole again and the scar will go away more easily._

_I can't hate you any longer, anymore._

_I rolled my stomach up for you and swallowed poison and acid, forcing myself to smile for you, while hating you – because hating you was just like hating myself: a friendly old habit inhabiting the folds of my ribs._

_You don't need the truth._

_You deserve better. You deserve happiness._

“I want a divorce.”

“To marry her?”

“No. - he couldn’t, but his voice sounded honest and Jeyne's eyes widened and she nodded quickly, licking her lips, so Robb proceeded – We can make it an annulment, if you want.”

“How?”

Robb breathed in, scratched his nape, “If I pretend I knew to be sterile before and didn't tell you...”

“But you're not.”

“The priest is not going to check that, will he.”

Jeyne shook her head, weakly, “It would be lying.”

_What do you care? Do you still believe in fairy-tales? In the idea he's there watching you?_

_There is nobody out there for us._

_We have no father, no mother, no origin._

“God knows it's not your fault.”, Robb whispered.

Jeyne looked at him and there was darkness in the chestnut of her eyes.

“I know it's not.”, she lied.

Robb blinked, nodding.

Silent wrath tasted like thunder and ashes.

_I know you need this. But I don't._

_I've been shamed enough. I've been blamed enough. I've been guilted enough._

_By myself, by the world. By you too, without you even knowing it, without you even realizing it._

_I know you need this._

_But I'm tired, and I'm going to swallow this just this once. This once and never again …_

He bit his lips and let out a sour chuckle, “That's what’s important.”

She frowned, blinked, “Are you being sarcastic?”

“No. - Robb tried to regain a certain innocence, but the blue of his eyes was by then corrupted, she could distinguish lakes from pools – Why would I be?”

Jeyne stood up and moved to him, squinting her eyes, “I don't deserve this.”

_And I didn't deserve to have to act straight for decades, but here we are._

_Calm down Robb, you can't tell her that. Please. For Theon._

“I apologized.”

“Apology? - she whispered, wrathfully, wired, her lips trembled, her eyes shone – Do you think I want an apology?”

Her voice was strained, then river bend snakes came from her eyes down her pale cheeks.

_You can cry._

_I can't. I never could. I still can't._

_Will you have mercy on me if I cry? I'm not allowed weakness, I'm not allowed honesty, I'm not allowed fracture._

_I'm not allowed to follow love or be truthful or be myself or scream it out. I'm not allowed to exist if not in a lie, and if I live a lie I'm faulted and if I don't I'm condemned._

_You can cry._

_I was never given the luxury._

Robb scoffed, “I have the sensation you're going to tell me what you want, then.”

“Oh, that would be too much, wouldn't it? - she raised her voice – God forbid someone states their feelings in this dollhouse, instead of playing pretend that everything is fine!”

_How dare you?_

_You speak like that? When you always could speak? When your revelation is nothing illegal but damn ridiculous sexual frustration? Fucking learn to masturbate._

_Robb. It's not her fault. It's how she was brought up. You married her._

_Nothing is ever her fault, is it? Nothing is ever anybody's fault, is it?_

_Except then I bend until I break, trying to fix up a way in which nobody will suffer – and mom won't cry and dad won't feel ashamed and Jon won't be blamed and Sansa won't be scared and Bran won't get traumatized and god god god forbid that Arya or Rickon know and oh Jeyne can't get disappointed or take responsibility for fucking with me, right? Only I have to. The man has to marry her. She doesn't have to realize she made a bad decision and should have thought about it._

_Only I am supposed to think. Only I am supposed to contain._

_Contain, restrict, repress._

_Only I am supposed to not live, in the end._

_The flask seemed sweeter than your cunt. And I needed to drink from the first to bear to sink into the other._

_But, sure, please._

_I'm sure the dollhouse pretence was terrible for you._

_I'm sure you suffered more than anyone else, didn't you?_

Jeyne's face became pale as she saw Robb's fist pulsing, the veins popping, the muscles tensing. She took a step back.

_As if I ever hit you …_

_Stop treating me like a monster._

_I'm a thin, sparse shadow, I just want to find shelter – I want a home. I want Theon, where is he? He understands me. He loves me._

_Not all I can do for him._

_Not how useful I am._

_He loves me when I'm useless and mess up, when I'm unorthodox and unprofessional and unkind, when I'm not correct and flawed. He loves me like none of you ever did._

“I'm leaving. - his voice echoed hoarse, pulsing angry – Let me know if you'd prefer an annulment or a divorce.”

Jeyne bit her lips and slapped him across the face.

Fingers printed in a red burn.

The pins and needles echoed through his skin and sank deep through his cheek and jaw. His eyes turned cold.

“Does that help you?”

He went out of the house with not even a flinch or another word.

Jeyne fell on her knees.

The icy tiles of the kitchen slapped her legs and turned her into a statue sculpted in her own silence.

 

39\. THEON

 

_Tender is the night. And bitter too._

_Tender is the time I spend waiting for you – but it sizzles just under the surface of my skin. And it makes it hard to bear and impossible to stare._

_I know I have to wait._

_But silence eats at me when you are away._

_It comes from darkness and swallows me up._

_It chews me down and my heart melts in darkness. Please, come and save me, take me away, take me as yours. I just need you._

_I don't care if it's unhealthy or silly or all wrong – I'm a tree with tangled roots that grew all in obliquity. I cannot exist in any other way._

_You're mine. Ramsay’s fingers run white on my neck, they find my chest, they cut my nipple in half, they slice my stomach open just with their skin. His fingerprints are razors and he guts me open and feeds me my own blood. No, it was Rodrik. Rodrik. What does it change? He was part of you. He was me. He was not. The difference is in my father's lips when they see us. Your finger is so nice Theon, look how pale it got. It's about to rot. Don't you like it? Suck your fingers clean from worms, baby boy._

_And Ramsay's fingers morph into Euron's._

_Pale or tan, bronze or snow – they are both rotten all the same, and dark and melted, and rancid, putrid puddles pool under them. They touch me the same way, like I'm just them, like I'm not even alive or human or an animal_

_Like I'm a thing._

_Like I'm a doll to tear by pushing a finger into or maiming its leg away._

_Was I ever more until him? Until Robb touched me? Was I ever more than that? Because lovers who meet in a bar for just one night are dolls to each other and heated toys and dark ripples in the night. But Robb saw me, didn't he? And he animated me. No toy, no statue, no marionette._

_From puppet, I turned into something more. Something deserving of – you cannot say that word, can you? It's too big, too wide. L. You can try, you can't say it. Not for yourself. Ov? Ve? You break it up, like bread, and lose pieces of it, crumbles reaching the ground._

_I bathe in azure disappointments. I’ve been bathing there all my life. Then I got tired of it – I wish my fingertips could run down your skin and I could kiss your hand and I could hold you so tight and I wish I could figure out if there is any way for this to work or make sense._

_You fucking faggot. How dare you dirty your uncle's name? Drag it through the mud like some crook, you bent over whore. How dare you come back when you brother died? Why you? You of all the good people, you perverted scum. Weed. You're just weed in this family._

_You're a good boy, Theon, aren't you? You're so soft. So good. You're a slut, aren't you, Theon? You joined the army hoping for this. You are a weed in this family._

_Euron's hands felt like tar and with Ramsay they turned to gasoline, but dad's … dad's felt like nothing at all._

_Please, please. Don’t touch me. Don't hurt me. Doesn't it feel good? Isn't this what you wanted? Stop complaining. Do you ever think about others? How ashamed I am of you? How hard it is to watch you?_

_Glimmers of hope always turned into staining dirt and drying mud in me. I wish I could puke it out, wash my guts from all the dreams I’ve had – they’ve rotted away, they’ve turned out to be overly ripe and festering and fetid and they putrefied me more. And I was once human, wasn't I?_

_I could be someone. I could be a full man, a real one._

_Now I'm a violated kid, a mutilated whore, a tainted son._

_How much before he drops me too? How long before he also sees me as just something to leave behind? Like a fool, I fell in love with you. You've turned my whole world upside down. You've got me on my knees. On my knees._

_Place yourself on your knees. What are you afraid of, glass? But that's what you like, isn't it? When it hurts? Now kneel and suck me off, be good. Or should I push your face in that glass? His smirk tastes sour. He is metal and gasoline. He is foul down my throat. I'm dirt, I'm dirt. I open my mouth and welcome him and I wish I could puke out my own throat because his dick feels slimy and disgusting. He awakens vomit at the bottom of my lungs._

_You're so cute. All full of blood and come. You look just perfect. You look so much like your uncle when he was just your age – Aeron, has anyone ever told you that? You look just born for this._

_If you try to escape, I'll gut you like a fish and fuck your guts, am I clear? You won't tell your mom, will you? She wouldn’t believe you anyway._

_Please, please, let me step down, let me go down. The carousel is too fast. It’s a tornado in my head. It drums, it drums. Please, please, let me down, let me down. Please, please, stop screaming. It drums in my head. It makes so much noise. I can't hear my thoughts, I can't hear my mind. You look so cute, so thin, you have almost a woman's waist. But no, you're no woman, are you? You're a bitch._

_You're below humans._

_The blanket stings, the electricity in it whips me like thunder, and the little ball falls and there was a plush, wasn’t there, but I bit it. I bit it’s eyes out. Cause I was angry. It looked at me, it looked at me. It knew. It had seen. It did nothing. It knew. It knew my shame. It didn't save me._

_Mom didn't._

_Theon, you're so soft inside. You're such a good American dog. I'm coming into you, baby boy – slut, take all of it, will ya? You're perfect. You're born for this. You're perfect. It's a present, it means you belong to me. You reek of my come – how fitting. You're mine._

_You're not my son._

“Are you feeling fine?”

Theon jumped, startled. Only then he felt his fingers burn – the filter between them was burning and scalding his skin.

“Fuck! - he shouted, dropping it and, as he heard Jaime laugh, he frowned and looked at him – It's not funny!”

“It kind of is.”, Jaime snickered.

Theon let out a groaned sigh: his boss had an awful sense of humor and a certain mocking strike.

“Sadist.”

Jaime let out a chuckle at that which made Theon's ears rise up in surprise.

“You seem to be lost in your thoughts. - Jaime observed – You're working well, and then, all of a sudden, you disappear for forty minutes.”

Theon flinched.

Forty? He couldn't even remember four of them.

“I'm sorry. - he panicked, biting his lips red – I'll return inside.”

“I didn't ask that. - Jaime showed him a lopsided smile – I asked if you're fine.”

Theon stiffened, feeling defensive, his stomach twisted.

_I can't trust him. He pretends like I can tell him but then he'll use it to send me away._

_It's always like that._

Jaime's hand took Theon's wrist and for a moment he froze –  _no, no, not again, not him, no, ice, rope, metal, blood, gut, jungle, Rodrik, worms, ants, bamboo, the roof, the roof on my head, the brain on the ground, pee, his hand, finger, my fingers, my fingers burn, burn, I feel it, I feel them hurt, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, please no, no, mommy, mommy, Rodrik, someone, someone, someone, blood, worms_ – his head spun until it was just a dizzy vertigo.

Jaime twisted his wrist up and glanced at it.

“It's not a bad burn but you're going to need ice.”

_No. Not again, not him, not them. Euron's hands up my shirt, the white shirt, cotton, I hate cotton, I hate cotton, he twists my nipple, Ramsay cut it. Are they together? Are they the same? Please, please, just let me go. I want to puke. I want to puke my brain out. Rodrik, help me, Rodrik. How does your brother taste? I could shoot you up your ass and fuck you until you die bleeding out from it. Nobody loves you as much as your uncle, Theon, you know, right? Nobody cherishes you like I do. You're mine. Give me your hand. Which finger do you need less? Let uncle kiss your hand. Let me pick one then._

Theon's breath felt choked, his throat closed.

_Please, please, not the ants, let me go, please. Not after the finger. It still burns, it bleeds, they'll go on it, they'll eat it, please, please. They'll go in my ears, please, I don't want them to eat my brain please, please. No, not the bamboo, my nails, not again, please, I'll tell you where they are, please, I'll tell them. I don't understand! Please, English, English. You're my whore. English! You wanted this, didn't you? Does anyone speak English here?_

Jaime's eyes shone, he frowned. A gleam, a realization.

“Are you here?”

His voice sounded so soft.

_Mom?_

Theon's eyes broke in shiny tears and he mouthed a weak “No”.

Jaime blinked slowly and his other hand caressed Theon's burn, slowly, “Do you feel it?”

Theon nodded slowly, then too quickly. His Adam's apple pressed knotted in his throat, all dry and hurtful.

Jaime continued, staring in Theon's eyes, pressing now slightly on the burn, “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“I'll heal it. - he promised, trying to keep his voice as slow and tender as possible – Do you feel you can come in? Is there too much noise for you?”

_Never as much as in my head. The world is silent._

“I can.”, his voice came out all hoarse.

Jaime caressed Theon's hair then, protectively, “Are you here now?”

_Here and there. I never leave there, never really. I want to live. Where is Robb?_

“I am.”

“Good kid.”

Theon nodded, licked his dry lips, looked at Jaime. “It's not... I know that it probably looks bad, but...”

Jaime shook his head, breathed in.

“I know them. - he gulped down – Those... whirlpools. Just... next time if you catch yourself before, tell me.”

Theon frowned, “Are you not angry?”

“How much of an asshole do you think I am? - Jaime laughed – But you should, by all means, see a doctor about that.”

“Robb d-- - Theon blurted out, abruptly – I mean, I have a doctor.”

Jaime squinted his eyes, then realization sunk in. Deep and dark and gleaming like candlelit wine.

His throat clenched and disappointment mixed still with a certain soft awareness.

“You don't say …”

 

40\. ROBB

 

_You were too hard. I know._

_You should apologize. I know._

_You're the guilty one. I know that too._

_But it is not about being right, is it? I never thought these feelings made me right or legitimized my selfish desires and upside down, feverish cravings. I never felt right._

_It did._

_I wished to love her for years, it didn't happen – I tried, I tried until Jon splattered his brain against that wall and I tried so hard I should have scars where I sank my fingernails to take out my heart. And then Theon came._

_And I didn't try. And I didn't hope. And it just happened._

_All right, all at the first blow, like a fever riding me to the moon._

_It's not like I chose to fall in love. Or I would have fallen for Jeyne, and never for Theon, never for a man. But truth thunderstruck reality. It doesn't ask permission and follows no will._

_I should have told her I'm a homosexual, though._

… _what if she discovers it?_

_What if she sees me with Theon?_

_God. That would be dangerous. I can't let her hurt Theon. I can't let my actions hurt Theon._

He raised his head, looking up, seeing a bar.

He walked beyond it, shrugging, shaking his head.

_I have to avoid rushing, though. Jeyne is good and kind, she would never hurt someone like that._

… _god, I resent her so much. Out of what?_

_She gave me nothing but the love I allowed her to give me. I should have been honest with her since the start._

_I never was angry, I never was the type of person who'd hold grunges like these._

_Is it because Jon left? Is it because Theon exists? Have I just changed?_

_Or has time sucked away all my patience and made me different and hot-headed, like a colt pawing the ground?_

Robb felt his chest clench and he looked at his hand, trembling.

He pulled the wedding band off of his finger in a slow motion, feeling the skin bend around it, resisting, trying to stop him.

_I need to be free. Finally._

It hurt when it finally came off, and the sign was a little but bruising white line.

But then freedom sank in and Robb stared at it, at his naked finger – the freckles he forgot under the ring, the hairs finally covering it again, with a twitching smile.

Elation sank in.

His eyebrows tensed and relaxed, while the dim din in his chest finally quieted and the drumming became rest.

He smiled, closing his eyes, breathing in.

_Finally._

His mouth trembled as he realized it was not final yet; he had to actually divorce and possibly, definitely, one day tell Jeyne everything. And he should have discussed being exclusive with Theon before getting head over heels about it.

And yet, for a moment, he allowed himself to be happy and put the golden wedding ring in the pocket of his shirt.

It felt way heavier than it was, but way less heavy than it felt on his finger.

… _but what if Theon won't want me?_

Robb liquefied, languished, pined away.

_He didn't sign up for a real relationship. Maybe he'd rather wait. Maybe he'd rather never._

_I know we're close, I know he's giving all he can, but then again and then yet … oh, god, still. What if he won't want me?_

_I think as if we could marry._

_But that's not the world we live in._

_We're walking with targets exposing our sins._

_We're relicts of a messed up history._

_What if he doesn't want to spend his life with me? With a coward? With someone with a profession like mine? I have colleagues calling us sick._

_We're illegal._

_I am an illegal person, I love an illegal love._

_In the eyes of those who believe in the eyes of god, we're rotten and should be squished like slugs daring to enter a human house after the rain._

_What if Theon doesn't want to risk it all to live a half life with me?_

It burnt and Robb swallowed down the thorny doubt sinking its spikes inside the raw flesh of his throat.

He had to believe.

He knew no other way to survive. And he had already given up his false happiness.

_It gave me migraines, instead of butterflies of light in the stomach._

_In the end, Theon just gave me the occasion to see the truth – without tasting happiness, the real, raw, pure one, I could never have been sure I was rolling in the void. Now I know._

_Now I know there is more._

_And I do wish me and Theon met before._

_I'm sure if we met before Jeyne, I would have never hated myself so much to try falling in love with a woman._

_I would have had him. I would have not been alone._

_Isn't this what love is, maybe? That there is someone in the world with whom I fit so well, with whom all spaces combine._

_And I belong in the lagoon of his soul and he in the cavern of mine._

 

41\. THEON

 

He kicked off his shoes as he entered the apartment.

It stank like cigarettes and time spent. And... real food?

Theon squinted, stiffened, frowning. He took his coat off and moved to the living room.

“...did someone... cook? Like... actually cook?”, he asked, bewildered.

Asha was laying on the couch with a big bandage over her chest, a red, blotchy stain peeking and creeping through it, wet and dark, she had a big glass of gin in her hands and she looked at him with confusion.

“Already home?”

“...Jaime didn't let me clean. - he explained, quickly – Did you get shot?”

Asha raised her eyebrows, chuckling, “No, I offered a brunette my heart and she took it, literally.”

“...why do I even try to talk to you?”

From behind, a small, thin figure appeared, tender, moving light and shy.

“I made you some tea. - she said, her eyes lowered, holding a mug and offering it to Asha – Here.”

Theon blinked, frowned, glanced at his sister, inquisitive.

_Thinner than her usual type, but pretty indeed._

Asha gave him a look that spelled: “don't you dare comment”, and smiled at the girl.

“Thank you again, I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Glad to be of service. - Asha smirked and winked, then winced, making the girl jump up with worry – Hush, hush, it's just a scratch.”

“Of all the things it's not, a scratch is the main one.”

… _and that's not her usual type at all._

Theon frowned, staring at the Valkyrie that appeared from the bathroom, she had blood stains on her white shirt and a wet police uniform in her hands.

She glanced at him and looked so awkward it was painful.

Asha yawned and pointed at them, “This is Brienne, my colleague. And this is Jeyne. A witness.”

“...and you bring those home, usually?”

Brienne sighed, “If someone had listened to me when I said what not to do, probably, it wouldn't have been necessary.”

“But I would have lost the delightful occasion of giving my little brother the sheer limpid and undeletable image of me having a lesbian orgy.”

Brienne looked at her with contempt and lack of amusement.

“I wished almost dying would fix your priorities, but I see I'm being utopic here.”

“Quite! I mean... life versus fun?”

Brienne groaned, raised an eyebrow and then offered her hand to Theon.

“Nice to meet you, finally.”

Theon blinked and looked at Asha, “Did you speak about me?”

“Of course. - Asha faked a smirk – Did you expect me not to share the amusing bicycle and butter accident?”

“You didn't-”

“She didn't.”, Brienne promised.

“This doesn't explain why you're here...”

Asha glanced at Jeyne, licked her lips and mumbled, embarrassed, “We had a problem with our operation, Jeyne is going to stay with us until we fix it.”

Theon glanced at her again.

_She looks like a malnourished squirrel, all thin and bird-legged, in a fur too fluffy and too red to be real, vulgar haircut, and bruises._

_A prostitute._

_A really badly treated one._

“I'm taking I'll sleep on the sofa.”

“I will. - Asha said, her eyes didn't fly to Jeyne, but Theon knew his own sister well enough – How did work go?”

“Normal. - Theon looked again at Jeyne and felt nausea slapping his throat – I have to go, I'll sleep away from home tonight.”

_She's like me, she's just exactly like me. She's used goods, she's a broken thing._

_She's like me and I'm nothing bigger or better._

_You're mine._

He rushed down the stairs, almost tripping, his knees hurting, his legs pulsing. The stairs felt like razors against him, and abysses.

He buried his head in his shoulders, as if he could shield himself.

But he couldn't.

He never could.

He opened the door and saw him.

_Robb._

He wished he could have said his name, but his lips trembled and for a long, terrible moment he fell mute and was unable to let out the weight air drowned his lungs in.

Robb smiled, instead.

It trembled on his face and he looked so happy and he looked almost like things made sense. His hands ran to Theon's face, he pushed him close and sank their lips together, locking, clasping.

_He tastes like wine._

Theon couldn't smile in the kiss, he just replied, kissing back, hungry, eager. He could feel his muscles aching, his jaw needing Robb inside.

He threw his arms around Robb's shoulders and pulled him close.

Robb parted and laughed, his hands pressing Theoon's face, his eyes tearing up. In joy.

_Are you happy to see me?_

_Why?_

_How can you look at me and make that face?_

“I told her.”

Theon blinked, “...you did?”

Robb nodded enthusiastically, his hands rushing to Theon's hips, pulling him close, pulling him to his heart.

“She... she guessed I was seeing someone so I couldn’t tell her about... you know.”

“The homosexuality factor.”

“Exactly- Robb panted, pulled Theon closer, kissing him again on the lips, quickly, once, twice, thrice, as if he was pure air – But I told her I want a divorce.”

Theon's eyes lingered on Robb's lips, then his chin, the stubble, the Adam's apple clenching down and jumping with tension.

“For me?”

_Why would he do stuff for me? Why would anyone sacrifice a piece of them, their tranquillity for me? Does he know me? Does he realize I am not worth it? Does he see me as someone who could be worth any of this?_

_How blind are you?_

_I think it's best we both forget, I think it's best I leave and you apologize to her, I think it's better if I ruin this before you do, I think it's better I close this and hurt you before you do. Because you will, won't you?_

_Why would you stay?_

Robb smiled, “Yes, for us.”

Theon gulped down, “You would have... for anyone you loved, right?”

Robb flinched, furrowed his eyebrows and glared, “ … what are you asking me?”

_You wouldn't have done it if we hadn't kissed. If we hadn't had sex._

_You didn't tell her before. You didn't leave her to give me a try. You waited until I was a safe option. Because I, myself, am not worth much, am I?_

_The idea of being with me seems to be worth something. But me, myself?_

_Am I yours? Do I belong to you? Are you my home? Am I forever with you?_

_Or am I just a thing you play with at times?_

_When will you get bored?_

_When will my missing fingers seem gross and my gone teeth feel weird?_

_When will I be not enough anymore not even as available and spread for you as I'm right now?_

“Nothing. - he lied – It's just... so much at once.”

Robb caressed Theon's shoulders softly. His hands felt as tender as velvet.

_A velvet, blue dress. Her hands run through my hair and she sings a nice song. I liked that soft fabric, but it was hot and heavy. I cried loudly. It was too heavy, it stung, it felt bad. And when my skin felt the hottest, my uncle Euron slid a hand to my little velvet pants, caressed and offered my mom to help me change._

_Tears, tears, tears. Fat and round and warm. They pooled in my eyes as I screamed and the scream scratched my throat and left my teeth feeling dry. It broke my chords and made my lungs squished. But I kept screaming. And tears, tears, tears, they dropped down like they couldn't stop or end._

_His hand moved away. But as I rejoiced, my father's one came and slapped me red and sore across the face. Over and over, until I couldn't feel it anymore._

“I know it's a bit overwhelming, but... - Robb shook his head, smiled, all blue and genuine and silly, simple, as if things couldn't corrupt the cerulean heart he had – I want to be with you, Theon.”

“Be with...? - Theon looked around – I, I mean, we can in the car, if you-”

“No, no, not in that way. - he laughed, scratched his nape – Well, sure, also in that way, but... - he looked all of a sudden all shy and his joy was a gleam leaping in his eyes and drumming in his chest – _Being together_.”

_He never did before, did he?_

_Have someone to call his own, whom he actually loved. A real, actual love, a confession with a risk attached, his heart on a chopping board._

_Oh, but I'm a machete. And I can be no pacemaker._

_I'm going to cut you, whether I want to or not... Please, don't give me the power to ruin you. I'm not worth it._

His fingernails hurt. As if bamboo sliced under them and pulled them up and apart.

And where the fingers missed, the rim burned, like a wedding ring of scarred flesh.

_I'm not free. I'll never be free._

“You don't... know me enough for it.”, he tried to scoff and smirk, but it came out as a strained sob.

Robb smiled, shaking his head.

“I know you're stubborn, and naughty, bit wicked. - he laughed – And smart, damn smart, too smart. And that you know only you're pretty, so you have no perception of the rest of you. - he saw Theon blink – Yes, you're still beautiful.”

“But Ramsay...”

“Whoever hurt you, they didn’t break you.”

Theon shook his head.  _Damn, please, please, don't cry. I don't want to cry._ But tears ran to the corners of his eyes all the same.

Fat and round and warm.  _Fat. Round. Warm._ And in his mind they tasted and smelled like blue velvet.

“He did. - his hands trembled and he raised them to the height of Robb's eyes – Look at it, I'm literally all broken up. He took away pieces. My teeth, my fingers, the toes, the...”

Vomit twitched slimy and alive in his throat and he threatened to get sick with a pulsing gulp, before stopping and breathing again, heavily.

“It's not you. - Robb shouted, and held Theon's wrists and stared deep in his eyes, nailing their glances magnetically; his lips quivered – You are more than the sum of your parts.”

Theon blinked and the tears rolled down.

A proud, stubborn color shone deep on his face, painting him tense. And his jaw clenched.

“I haven't told you all of it.”

Robb caressed Theon's hand, its soft back, the veins and bones, and murmured, softly, “You have all the time in the world to tell me, if you want to.”

_If I want to?_

_If?_

Theon sucked his lips.

Robb felt nervous, panic sank in and he dropped Theon’s hand, as if it scalded him.

_No, no, don't go. No._

Theon grabbed Robb's hand back, looked at it, held it tight.

_I can't give up on you._

And he swallowed down, hard and heavy, turning his voice hoarse and purple.

_A bruised voice, a bruised man._

“I want you too.”

Robb's smile returned and he threw himself on Theon, hugging him, ever so carelessly, recklessly, in the evening road, and nuzzled his face against Theon's neck and breathed his scent in. It brought summer with tangerines and salt.

He could feel the wetness of Theon's tears on his own cheek. And he cherished that, sank into that wet trace.

He whispered on the shell of Theon's ear, low and hot, like dark embers, “Thank you...”

“Now, that was not as romantic as I would have expected.. - Theon admitted with a relieved laugh – then looked at Robb, still resting on his shoulder, and realized he liked that – Where do you live for now?”

“At the house I...”

“The one with the birds?”, Theon groaned, disgusted.

Robb scoffed, “Why do you hate them so much!”

“They are of awful taste and of worse appearance.”

“How strict. - Robb pouted, faking offense, then caressed Theon's long, night-colored locks slowly – My uncle Brandon used to hunt, he got all of those.”

Theon raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I know you thought this would have made it less gross, but it really didn't.”

Robb laughed, snorting.

“Fine! I can take them off the wall!”

Theon licked his lips, playfully drawing circles on Robb's shirt with his finger.

“I didn't say I would come with you.”, he reminded with his honeyed, lustful voice.

_You go to my head, damn you …_

His eyes lingered on Robb's lips and he imagined them sucking his cock, the stubble scratching his balls, the tickle of his breath … 

“But you will. - Robb's hand circled around Theon's waist and pulled him close, making him choke a little gasp – Because you're just as much of a fool as I am.”

“That's a lot of a fool to be.” Theon observed, slowly, enchanted.

His eyelids fluttered, but his eyes were still mesmerized by Robb's unkissed, starving lips.

Robb moved forward first, raised Theon's chin with his fingers and closed his eyes.

Theon's knees buckled, weakly.

“I'm yours.”, Robb whispered.

And Theon smiled into the kiss. Another tear falling down – thin and quick and fresh.

“I'm yours too.”

_You're mine. You're mine. No. You're mine. No. You belong to me, Theon, you know very, very well._

_Just for once. Leave me._

_Let me live._

Theon's fingers ran behind Robb's neck, entwined and pulled him in a deeper kiss. Robb groaned into it, caressing the small of Theon's back.

 

42\. JAIME

 

He closed the bar, the first lavender lights of dawn twinkling in the sky.

He heard chirping birds, but ignored them. Birds creeped him out, somewhat, but he was never sure why. He supposed it had to do with how his cats used to catch them and gut them on the sunlit balcony in the heated summer, and maybe he always felt they would have gotten revenge.

Or that some equilibrium would have come.

Nothing of the sort happened, of course, but Jaime always found himself feeling uncomfortable with their sounds.

They felt like scratches in the back of his mind.

Voices never really went away. Not much.

_That kiddo, he's just like I was. Before Brienne. Before Robb. Before I went away._

_When my mind belonged to her and my neck was tied on the yoke and the leash she pulled._

_She would sink my head under the waters of her voice._

_She was always so convincing, so outrageously easy with changing the ways of reality and deforming mirrors and twisting words – and I was a moth to her warm flames and her tongue._

_She burnt my wings well enough. But I was fine with it, welcomed it, even. She was green and gold and she turned everything to summer._

_It took me time to realize I hated heat._

_But that was before Brienne._

_Before the sweetest breeze of spring she brings. Before the freshness she leaves beyond and under my skin. Before she mended my mauled heart._

He groaned, putting the keys in the car. The purring of the motor left a soft bruised murmur in his ears and he relaxed against the leather seat.

He sucked his lips slowly.

_What are you doing Robb?_

_Did you really start dating a patient? And Jeyne?_

_Will you scream it to the world? What you are? Do you think you could bear the shame that comes with such a confession?_

_You couldn't. You're not like me. You care about others liking you too much for such a thing._

… _and yet._

_And yet who am I to judge when I pushed the truth out in the most selfish way to grab her and my happiness with her? And Brienne deserves way better than me._

Jaime rested his arm on the border of the Lotus Seven, feeling the breeze shake his blond hair around, slapping them in the night.

His fingers brushed the wheel, held it tight, knuckles riding the curve.

He stirred it slow and tasted the early morning against his palate.  _I miss her._

_Her honeyed dew running down her thigh, her soft kisses, salty as her sweaty skin, and the way she holds me whole._

_I'm shattered, but none of my pieces fall away when she keeps me close._

_I was sure I'd never feel full again._

Shame stained his cheeks, as he noticed a low, dark tingle in his pants. The brackish saltiness of the sea breeze mixed with the juicy sweetness of the peaches growing on the trees.

A country so big any road would feel like an infinite roll beyond the horizon … all in front of him.

And yet all that was in his mind was one house, one bed, one smile.

He licked his lips and bit them to hold back a smile. But he couldn't.

Happy. Happy felt new and wild and ridiculous.

And it existed, more incredibly than ever. It existed.

Happy was real.

And it was one meter ninety with shy, furious eyes and a sweet, bold mouth.

He should have gone home that night, slept a bit, rested, let her rest too, but the blue of her eyes thundered in his mind. He twisted the wheel and took the right to hers.

Whatever Robb was doing, he couldn't blame him. Brienne being his therapist sure wouldn't have stopped him.

Maybe delayed.

For sure not stopped.

_Happiness is the loudest siren._

 

43\. ASHA

 

Asha put the tea mug on the table, with an acute clunk and a deep breath. She relaxed against the sofa and breathed deeply.

Her ribs stung and muscles tensed up, pulling. She winced, but covered it, clearing her voice.

Jeyne stiffened and clenched her hands.

Jeyne Poole, whose eyes looked like pools of the tenderest, softest earth, wetted lovingly by the rain, stained still in petrichor and life. Jeyne Poole, whose eyes were the sweetest and the saddest Asha had ever seen.

She was fidgeting, squishing her hands slightly, pressing against her fingers until the skin was whitened and then, as she left it, reddened – her delicate lips were chapped and she kept biting them nervously. Lipstick stained the white of her front teeth slightly.

She looked so small, so fragile, that for a moment Asha felt sick.

Her voice, though, echoed hard and deep. She sounded... angry?

“That was bloody stupid!”

Asha blinked, surprised, “Uh?”

Jeyne diverted her look from her hands and pinned it on Asha's eyes. Asha knew better than to think of a woman that she's beautiful when angry, but love must have made her stupid.

Because she could just think Jeyne was the prettiest woman she had ever seen.

“You could have gotten hurt!”

Asha scoffed, “Protecting is my job, not standing behind.”

“Brienne had it under control. - Jeyne shouted, and she leaned forward, invading Asha's space, making her heart jump in her throat – You picked her as my safety agent and then? You do this shit?”

Asha blinked again, puzzled.

“...you have quite the potty mouth when upset, don't you?”

“The preaching comes from the wrong pulpit!”, Jeyne yelled.

Asha backed a bit, caught fully by confusion and an outrageous mix of arousal and happiness. _Was she so worried for me?_

“What does that even mean?”

“The pot calling the kettle black. - Jeyne corrected herself, quickly, ashamed, as she slipped back into a calmer pitch, but she lowered her head and glanced again at her hands – I, look, I don't get you.”

“That makes two of us. - Asha chuckled, trying to relieve the tension – Kind of gave up on that.”

Jeyne sucked her lips, her eyes filling up with tears.

“You got shot for me and compromised everything.”

“You'll still have your freedom. - Asha promised, moving a hand over Jeyne's, slowly, but in the end, not daring to cup them or touch them or even brush them, and her hand rested in mid-air, like a sad, naked branch in winter – What I did doesn't compromise our deal.”

Jeyne shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Because I'm a whore, right? I can care only about my gaining, right?”

Asha's eyes widened, and Jeyne caught her eyelids fluttering with the safest silence.

She swallowed down words.

She forbid herself to speak.

She suppressed every feeling, pushed it down, as if by moving the eyes and closing them a moment, she could let those sink back in through her eyes and reach her mind and stomach and sit between her ribs and never come out again.

“I … don't... - Asha gulped, slow and hard, as if her throat tightened up – I don't want you to worry for me.”

Jeyne looked away. Her hands trembled.

“Would that be so bad?”

_I'm not used to it._

_I was never the one one should worry about._

_I was the one who worked out fine._

_I never drowned, I always floated just fine. Fine. Just fine. Never helped, never fixed._

_Never seen._

Asha's throat clenched more and her lips quivered and trembled, like the mouth of a dying fish. Asthma for the truth. She really was not made for it.

Or for honesty. Or for vulnerability. Or for anything of the sort. Anything Jeyne still was and held in her sweet deer heart.

“I'm a grown woman, kiddo. - Asha scoffed – I don't need a mom.”

Jeyne raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, then her gaze seemed to slip on Asha's mouth. And her cheeks took a mulled color.

“And I don't need a savior. - she let out a shy smile – But you didn't seem to care about that part.”

“You needed help.”

“Who doesn't? - Jeyne shook her head and smiled, trying her hardest to divert her eyes from Asha's lips, but they fell and danced on her arm, and then on her hand – Why did you never do it?”

Asha frowned. She smirked, nervously.

“Did what?”

Jeyne's voice came out as little as a peep, as low and warm as a prayer.

“Paid me.”

Asha's eyes widened and she stared at Jeyne's face and then, stubbornly, at the coffee table at their side. And she scratched behind the lagoon of her ears, nervous, tense.  _Naked and seen._

“Isn't it obvious?”

Jeyne glanced up, “Because you're a cop?”

Asha let out a bitter chuckle.

It felt so dry and it scalded her tongue. And it left a desert in her mouth and a storm in her stomach.

She grinned, smug.

“I didn't want you that way.”

And Jeyne's lips parted gently.

She frowned, looking upset, “I don't see what there is to smile about that.”, she blurted out.

For a moment, Asha was caught back, unsure of what to think, and then her smirk extinguished, like a matchstick finishing slowly and then all at once.

She was about to apologize when she felt Jeyne's hand on her own.

It trembled.

And it looked so small and was so soft.

“There is nothing happy about it.”, Jeyne whispered, and then a sob got strangled in her throat. She hiccupped sadness and resignation.

Asha shook her head, that grin coming back to her lips.

“Oh, there is nothing to make that sad face for either, baby girl.”, she promised.

And her hand cupped Jeyne's cheek.

And Jeyne rested against it, slowly, breathing in, eyes closed – as if reality hurt, as if it was too dangerous to see the edge, the fringe at which things could turn to be happy and fine, when still unsure if it is true and if it could even be. Her breath got shattered and she sobbed again, while Asha caressed her cheeks slowly, the back of her fingers riding the red shining through.

And then she moved a lock behind Jeyne's ear, making her gasp.

Asha swallowed down, looked at her, at the way she trembled, not as afraid, as much as about to break into a new, pulsing, feverish light.

Into the defeating power of a tender touch.

“Just so I'm sure …”

Jeyne smiled without opening her eyes and rubbed her face, nuzzling against Asha's hand.

“Yes.”

Asha's grin tickled, twitched. Her eyes went lucid for a moment. 

_And the first time ever I kissed your mouth, I felt the earth move through my hands, like the trembling heart of a captive bird …_

She moved forward, catching Jeyne's trembling lips in her own. And Jeyne arched her back, searching for more of her mouth, and Asha's unlocked it and sank into her.

Her tongue slowly taking her, making her melt against her, muffled moans and shivers riding her back.

Asha's hands travelled on Jeyne's skin, drawing caresses and brushed touches on her ears or neck, pulling slowly the shirt down. Jeyne smiled, shuddering, candlelit heat palpitating in her chest and travelling down.

She pushed further, letting her own tongue meet Asha's, tentatively, almost afraid of how good it felt.

Something so simple, something so green.

But it felt like light piercing the leaves of a tree and raining down in golden deluge.

Asha's hand moved behind her back, passed under her shirt, searching for her naked skin, sprinkling and pouring desire all over her. 

Jeyne moaned into the kiss, put her hands around Asha's neck and pushed against her, searching for more, for her.

She could feel Asha grin against her lips in the kiss and she did the same.

She felt dizzy with happiness, spring’s fresh vertigo whirpooled through her head; but soon a much lower, hotter, darker feeling took over her body, as Asha's lips left her mouth and kissed her neck, sucked it, dragging the blood to the surface.

Jeyne moaned, twitched.

She could feel herself throbbing, pulsing.

She gasped, breathless and needy.

And her ignited and drenched moans filled the room.

Asha chuckled against her neck, before biting into the soft, reddened zone, then licked it, teasing her. She dragged her swollen lips against Jeyne's skin, making her tremble in anticipation, before sucking again, closer to the ear. 

At that, Jeyne's hips twitched, bucked, her voice turning into wet flames.

Asha's hand came to Jeyne's mouth and rubbed her lips, pressed them, gently and commanding all the same. Jeyne's lips parted and she sucked Asha's fingers, dragged her teeth over them, lingered and then licked.

She took them in her mouth, sucked, her tongue lingering and teasing at the base of the fingers and between them. A silent begging, a devoted spell.

Asha chuckled in her ear.

“If you do it so eagerly, it will go to my head.”

Jeyne let them slip out, with a stormy, soaked moan. Her eyes shone like sleeping fire.

“Do you plan to keep talking?”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

6.

 

44\. THEON

 

_He smells like apples in the morning._

_His long, red locks sparse on the soft pillow, the scent of fresh sin rising from their auburn waves – he sleeps soundly, his chest welcoming air as if life weren’t poison, as if there were a sense in anything yet._

_He’s Samson waiting for the sad twist, for the hems of sadness. He’s carried the burden of restless nights for centuries and now he lets himself unravel and come undone._

_And he trusts me and sleeps next to me._

_But my heart is a pair of scissors._

_I am the pain, I am the blade, I will ruin him. As I always do._

_It’s in my nature, is it not?_

_I’ll ruin him too. As I’ve ruined everything that’s ever touched me and that I’ve ever touched._

_He smells like apples in the morning, and his sweat is salty, and when I sleep in the crook of his armpit, I turn into a crook and steal the place of someone else._

_That woman did not make him happy, but she didn’t ruin his life either – but here I am, a rotten peach in a land of rotten peaches, I am nothing but a queer, a wrong nail that lost its aim, please, bring me home, to where things made sense. Bring me back to Eden’s gardens and all that shit._

_Bring me back to a place where my head was not screwed together all wrong._

_Ramsay’s fingers run down my neck, his hand presses down on my throat, and his voice echoes in my ears, thin and slimy and all dim. “He’ll discover you’re not worth it.”_

_I would nod but my neck is stone, I’m suffocating. The Adam’s apple is a real apple, I am choking, I can’t bring it down._

_I’m going to die here, I’m going to die like this._

_Stone and apple and, oh, fuck, fuck, it’s a tie, it’s a knot, I can feel it. The hanging knot around me. “You remember the necklace I gave you, don’t you?” Yes, I do._

“ _You’re a good dog, aren’t you?” Yes, I am._

“ _A good pet, a good pet, who’d never bite my hand.” Please, don’t touch me._

“ _If you move, I’ll cut off another finger and fuck you with it, then I’ll chop off your own dick and push that deep in your ass, sew it up, until you die due to your cock rotting inside you, am I clear?”_

“ _Am I clear?”_

_Yes._

“ _God, you still reek of maggots. - his lips brush my ears, they are wet and big, like fat worms – Maybe next time I feed you your brother’s meat I should preserve it in salt.”_

_I chug it down. I can taste the black waste waters, slapping inside my throat like eels._

_I wish I could puke, I wish I could puke out everything – Rodrik, Vietnam, mom, uncle Euron’s fingers, Ramsay’s voice, myself. I wish I could … a whistle, acute and cutting in the ear as thunder and cracking ice. Blackboard, whistling. Chalk. Now, read with me: Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste – you look so beautiful, Theon, but this name doesn’t suit you – brought death into the World, and all our woe, – I have a better one for you – with loss of Eden, till one greater Man restore us, and regain the blissful seat – Maggots run down the flesh, maggots eating bulbs, the soft plop of a pupil falling apart – Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire that shepherd who first taught the chosen seed in the beginning – all flies were once maggots – how the heavens and earth – all of us were waste and will be waste again – rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed fast by the oracle of God, – organs spill out, drip, slow, slow, slow, and then quick, quick, quick, tic toc, tic toc, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the water spout – you don’t need all these fingers, do you? All these teeth? English! English! Please, does anyone speak English? Do you? I’ll call you Reek – Down came the rain and washed the spider out – Please, let me go, please, please … this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You asked for it, begged for it, for me to fuck you – Oh, Theon, baby, my sweet, sweet baby, you wrap around me so well – Down came the rain and washed the spider out – I thence invoke thy aid to my adventurous song the spider out washed the spider out washed the spider out that with no middle flight intends to soar above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the water water water rain washed washed the spider out things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme say you want me Theon, say you love your uncle, Theon, is this any way to speak to, say you’re sorry, Theon is such an ugly name for a whore like you, Reek suits you better, Theon, Theon, run. Run. RUN. I can’t leave you here. Leave. Why did you return instead of Rodrik? Why you? Is that my intestine … How does your brother taste? You should know, you drank his blood, didn’t you? In the muddy water. You were hiding under a corpse. What does this say about you? Whistle whistle. Scissors through the flesh. Bomb. Earth that breaks. Grass jumps. It cuts too. Scissors, scissors, don’t run with scissors. They hand in hand with wadding steps and slow, through Eden took Their solitaire way. Read with me. Theon, are you ill? You look pale. Ew, teacher, Theon is vomiting. Is that my intestine? I could pour rats in your mouth, see them eating you inside out. Or do you prefer one in your ass, would you come from that? Grass, grass, cuts, sharp, shards. Cut cut cut. Green, I like green. Green. Mom. Mom, mom, mom, please hold me. Apron. Apples on the apron. Red. Apple. Adam. Robb._

He turned to his side slowly, just to see _Robb, tongue dangling, hanging out of his mouth, vitriol, vitreous glassy eyes stuck in the void, turning the colour of rancid, acid milk, and his intestine spilling out._

Theon _screamed._

He was sure he did. But he didn’t.

He just panted, silently, his breath and chest shaking, lungs shivering like dying fish in his ribcage. His heart tripped and his stomach flopped.

His eyes filled with tears and he started to sob and hiccup.

It burnt, it burnt so much and so deep in the rotting roots of his own bones.

His eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of his skull, so swollen and heavy, Theon was not sure how his bones were keeping them in.

His hand ghosted over Robb’s arm, electricity running through his fingers, as if he tried – he really did – to wake him up.

_He’s alive, isn’t he? If I touch him, if I touch him he will move and it will all stop… but what if he doesn’t? It will, because this is not real, it’s not real. How do you know? His voice, his scent, his touch. Ramsay… no, Euron, Euron’s lips next to my ear, his hands dragging down my pubis… if I wake Robb, if I touch him, Euron will go away._

“ _But you don’t want me to go, do you?” Yes, I do._

“ _You want me.” No._

_But I don’t want him to see you. He won’t, Theon, you’re a loony._

His hand slammed on Robb, almost in a punch, he slammed so hard in the arm, he was sure he bruised Robb, who jolted up in a cursed twist.

“What’s goin… - Robb’s eyes widened in horror, as he stared at Theon – What happened?”

_Can he see it? Can he see him? Is he seeing my uncle fucking me? Please, please, pull him away, throw him away, send him away, it hurts. Robb! Mom!_

Robb’s hand caressed Theon’s jaw, sweetly.

_Are you not going to stop him?_

… _please, don’t abandon me too._

“Did you feel sick? - Robb’s voice was soft, worried – Did you hallucinate?”

His uncle disappeared, and so the pain in his ass.

He blinked.

On his shirt there was vomit and blood, _blood? How in hell?_ His hand moved to his nose, where the wet feeling stung the most. _Right._

Robb caressed his hair and pulled him closer.

“Are you breathing fine?”

“… I’ll stain you.”, Theon whispered, not recognizing his own voice as he spoke.

_Has it always been so croaky, so cracked, so weak?_

_Hadn’t it been smooth and charming?_

_Have I always been shattered, scarred, scattered?_

Robb kissed his curls.

“I love you, I’m here with you now.”

_For how long, though?_

Robb raised Theon’s jaw and mumbled, “Do I clean you up or do you want to sleep, hm?”

Theon flinched. The blood did start to pull on his stubble.

“How about I clean you and after we go for breakfast?”

Theon nodded, weakly.

 

45\. ASHA

 

Jeyne’s breathing was chanting a silent lullaby, her white chest filling and emptying, brideveil dancing in the wind. Her chestnut hair was like liquid silk on the sheets.

Asha’s fingers caressed her side, the lagoon of her waist, melting into the sweetest hill of her hip, down to curl into the shell cave of her ass. Jeyne giggled from being tickled as Asha’s fingertips found the road from her Venus’ dimples down her cheeks, and slid near the slit of her wet cunt.

Jeyne shivered, sucking her lips, her hips twitching back, searching for contact.

Asha grinned, smug, kissed Jeyne’s shoulder, moving forward, sliding a finger inside her cunt, sipping Jeyne’s writhing, then letting another finger tease her clit, her hand finding her heat and stirring the embers of her lust.

Jeyne moved back against the fingers, smiling slow.

Then her voice came, soft as the first summer storms on the verge of spring.

“How does the shot feel?”

Asha’s lips tilted, twitched, “Stings.”

“Maybe next time don’t be so reckless?”

Asha chuckled, “Isn’t it weird how you complain about my temperament only before and after sex, but never during it?”

Jeyne snorted. Her little nose let out the smallest, highest note and she shook her head.

“With what nerve can you say so!”

Asha moved another finger in, “Wait, let me try to find the switch again...”

Jeyne laughed, “You’re terrible! - she turned and kissed Asha’s cheek – And, – a gasp – For your information, I don’t shut up easily.”

Asha smirked, “Good. - she kissed Jeyne’s soft lips – I like a woman who will give me the challenge of shutting her up.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”, Jeyne asked, raising her eyebrows but closing her eyelids, breathing in as Asha’s fingers teased her both inside and out, sliding, skimming, stirring.

Asha hummed in assent, before nuzzling her head in the hilt of Jeyne’s neck and sucking it bruised.

“Hm… - Jeyne mumbled – Shouldn’t you go to work?”

“I’m deeply, horribly, dangerously wounded. - Asha whispered, moving her fingers deeper before curling them inside, letting her thumb brush over Jeyne’s tip more – I should absolutely rest.”

Jeyne let out a strangled laugh, “You’re not exactly resting.”

“How mean of you to point it out...”

Jeyne struggled to leave her arms and then sat up, looking at Asha tenderly.

“Should I make breakfast?”

“Wait, you also cook? - Asha smirked, raising her eyebrows – I did win the lottery of pretty girl guests, didn’t I?”

“Perhaps. But don’t get cocky about it.”

“Me? Cocky? When? How?”

Jeyne laughed, “What do you eat for breakfast?”

“Stuff I don’t burn. - she mumbled – Eggs are fine. I am not sure we have anything to eat them with, though.”

“I’ll make something. - Jeyne promised, sucking her lips – Can I use whatever?”

“Sure. - Asha stood up – I will try to take a shower and change the gauze.”

The tips of Jeyne’s feet danced across the floor, as if she had turned to weightless light on the white tiles. She did look like sunlight had condensed in her tiny porcelain and silk body.

Asha promised herself not to attack her yet.

She moved to the shower, welcomed the hot water, flinched when it stung and burned on the dried blood and fresh scab, looked at the bruise turning a sick, round yellow.

_I wonder if Theon stared at his wounds the same._

_His made no sense._

_He saved no one._

_He went because the government wanted to destroy, he went forced, with a hand on his throat and one on his future, choking him, going to the slaughter like a pig. He went without hope and lived without hope and returned without hope._

_It was all for nothing._

_No Jeyne got saved by his arms._

_No love got to bloom from his actions._

_The wounds were useless and unwelcome and painful._

_And they got infected with sadness and nothing could change it._

_There was no reason for him to be there, there is no reason for the return to be happy – just relief, but relief is not joy._

_Peace is no happiness._

_Peace is a treaty, not a celebration._

_Peace is a compromise you sign crying and choking on memories of war._

_There is no victory in war, there is nothing that comes out of his wounds but pus and infection and pain._

_And the voices, the voices of all the men who hurt him and whom he hurt._

_Those, I couldn’t bear._

_I wonder if Theon hates me for the courage people attribute to me for something that won’t ever be half as brave as it had been for him not killing himself there in Vietnam. Or surviving when he had a chance not to._

_If he even did._

… _I’m not sure I want to know that._

_I want to think he came back because he could, not because he couldn’t not._

The water turned too warm and scalded her shoulders. She didn’t regulate it though.

There was pleasure in hurting herself like that.

_Theon also did, at times, didn’t he?_

_When we were kids, he would, after uncle Euron’s visits. When he turned thirteen he’d spend so much time under the hot showers his skin would turn to red prunes or dry._

_It feels good, a suffering that’s under our control._

_It’s familial._

She felt herself sob. Hard sobs, sharp, made of edges and rough angles.

Sobs made of cement and bronze.

Sobs made like the rest of her.

Unsoft, unkind, unsweet.

Sobs that rolled down her cheeks like sandpaper and choked her down her throat like stones rolling in an avalanche.

Sobs that hurt.

She held onto the wall, biting her lips to muffle them.

_Saving Jeyne saved just Jeyne, didn’t it?_

_I failed you still._

_I failed you anyway._

Her hand moved to close the water. Brown blood had met in swirls with the pale smouldering water, and it whirlpooled, spiralling in spiderswebs of thin, dark lines, until it met the gutter and got swallowed down with a dull gulp by the tubes.

She panted.

Her pained breath echoed through the room, it slammed and spanked, choked and bounced like an elastic band of regret.

_Have I lost you?_

Her hands trembled, bones and knuckles and muscles and veins and all the skin around, thin like paper and fragile like ice; they all trembled, they all cried.

Her hands with which she had ruffled his hair for years.

Her hands she had used to hold his and pull him away from the road.

Her hands she had pinched and slapped and mocked him with.

Her hands she had hugged him with and kept him so close when darkness would come and he’d slip into her bed because he was afraid.

_When did you slip away?_

_No. When did I allow you to?_

She had wanted to blame it all on the war, but it was not just that. It was never just that.

The war had simply exposed the distance between the pieces that had been shattered way before.

_When did I abandon you?_

She slammed the wall and grabbed a towel to wrap around her waist. She let her hair down.

She liked the small, low rain of droplets coming from it.

Asha stared at her own reflection in the foggy, blurred mirror, waited for the condense to release it, to allow her to see herself.

But it didn’t happen.

And Jeyne called her in the kitchen before.

Asha put on a big, white shirt, letting the hole dry before putting a new gauze over it, and a pair of blue jeans that must had been Maron’s before he died, because they didn’t fit her, but since she had found them in the moving boxes she had never been able to put them away.

She reached the small kitchen with a stretched, forced smile on her face.

Until she saw her.

“I hope you don’t mind. - Jeyne said, flattening the apron over her – I couldn’t find another one, and…”

Asha shook her head.

“Red apples suit you.”

“As if. - Jeyne lowered her look, unsure how anything would fit her – You like them soft?”

Asha nodded, smelling the saltiness of the dense yellow, and sat at the table, seeing the kitchen more filled with food than it had been in months. Or ever.

Jeyne had found some vegetables and put together an israeli salad, on the table there was also bread Asha had even forgot they had, and she served fried eggs, yellow, soft and springy, with onions over. And black coffee.

Asha blinked, “Is… this…?”

“A real breakfast?”, Jeyne laughed, weakly, sitting next to her.

“Perhaps… - Asha broke the yolk, seeing the sunshine bleed out over the white – I forgot the last time someone prepared something like this for me.”

Jeyne smiled and her fingers ran along the hem of the apron, “And I forgot the last time someone helped me. It seems we’re even, after all.”

Asha put a bite in her mouth, grinning.

 

46\. THE WILLOW

 

She held her own shoulders, as if that was the only way of keeping herself together.

She may crumble.

Her lungs felt unglued to the core, just a thin surface that was going to part.

The house was empty and silent. More than it had ever been.

He left.

The stairs were walked by ghosts and only air inhabited the beds, there was no life on the couch and no nourishment in the dishes. All was done and stale and static.

And she nodded to herself, licking her chapped, dry lips.

He left.

He was no more anywhere but in things she couldn’t see or feel.

He was somewhere else, with someone else. Their hands on his body, their voice in his mind, their soul in his soul – entwined. It made her sicker.

He was somewhere else, with someone else. Kissing her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and fucking her. Jeyne’s hands trembled.

She had disappeared from him too.

He was not going to miss her, to cry for her, to see her in the deformed reflection on silver cutlery, in the echo running beyond shower curtains as water stops raining.

He did not need her and she was left behind.

She knew that was what one got from falling in love with someone who needed to be needed more than they needed others.

And yet she did all the same.

Love was not wise – hatred was still foolish, though. And so was she. But hating him was hard.

Because Robb had been her everything a tad bit too long for her to sever that limb mercilessly.

Thought, she supposed, that was where hate streamed from: seeing the stump burn and get infected and hurt, and hurt, and hurt forever.

Love was not patient, love was not kind.

It didn’t always protect, always trust, always hope nor always persevere.

It all went to waste, like sand loses its water and dries and disperses.

Love had not kept him at her side and she could not do more than rest herself with the awareness of cinder and ashes washing inside her veins, as his absence sunk in her.

He left her.

Like one just leaves a willow to cry, bent over itself, tears rusting down its leaves.

For a moment, she wanted to call Willas, to ask him for that dinner, to try and have fun, but all she could do was stare at his stuff.

It was still there, but it wouldn’t have been for long.

Jeyne knew when he had to leave the house, he would have come and took it all – the suits and the ties and the documents and the books and the family heirlooms and the photographs and it all and all and more.

He would have come and taken all that was his.

And what was once hers too, just by reflection of being part of him.

Had he even let her be that? Or had he just allowed her to be delusional and to think it?

Had he ever stopped and stared at the void between her fingers and felt he belonged there?

Had her happiness been in any way of his concern? Or had he just swallowed up what he could take off her, like a jackal, tearing flesh from a carcass and cleaning bones, draining anything out of them, careless and uncaring?

After all, she didn’t matter, did she?

All that mattered was for him to be satisfied and happy – he fucked her, took her, tore her, he married her out of duty and then left when his conscience had been cleaned enough, after he had managed to convinced himself he was the victim and deserved better. Oh, how he did.

She had given him anything she had.

It was never enough.

Nothing she was could make him happy.

And since he was always an unsatisfied jerk, he could not be bothered to care about her happiness too, not even about trying to fill it.

No, that would have been too much.

He left.

Like he had lived with her: without an inch of care.

Not even a bit, not even a wet, damp, ugly crumble of care.

Bone, done, gone. Without the wind. Without a word. Without a wish.

He left.

He left. Robb left.

Jeyne held her trembling hands together, and she knew she could be the only one to fill the gaps between the fingers.

She sucked her lips, rubbed away her tears with the back of her hand and started packing his stuff; she was not going to let him see her as a poor sibyl, waiting and guarding the temple of his shortcomings.

 

47\. THEON

 

_His voice left me when Robb cleaned me._

_Guilt hadn’t._

_I should share it, I should tell him, he should know. But I don’t either. I’m unsure. I dreamed of it. It didn’t happen, did it? Two times? That’s too much._

_It was just Ramsay._

_And I wanted it._

_That’s the truth and all the truth that there will ever be._

_The things I bring with me are just relics of a past he doesn’t deserve to hear about – he has done so much for me. I don’t deserve him. He deserves better._

_If he doesn’t know, he won’t leave me._

_If he doesn’t know, he won’t ever see what a rotten creature I am._

_I suppose I’ll protect us both if I don’t say, if I don’t share. If I keep this in the tomb of my guts._

_It was just Ramsay, wasn’t it?_

_A thin, cold, shiny line of sharp teeth. They cut through me. Knife. Steak. Outside there is nothing, just darkness. And lamplights. What are you afraid of now, Theon? The man that eats me alive. How had I been scared of him?_

_I hadn’t met him yet._

_The rain shines and the light from the street shatters back._

_Orange, green, the moon._

_That’s all. You think?_

_Somebody! Does someone speak English! English! Please!_

_What did he look like?_

_Fat, big lipped, greasy hair. Ugly. Ugly. Like a pig. What of his eyes? They looked fake._

_Glass._

_Fake._

_Hollowed out. Scar. Eyepatch._

_I lost it in the last war, do you want to touch it? BURN. BURN. OUT. HAND. ASS. Hurt hurt hurt hurt mom mom mom ROBB._

_Void, fall, trip. Stone. Blood. Knee. Whistle whistle whistle, bomb. ANTS. ANTS._

_Bamboo hands._

“Theon –”

Theon shook awake, shivering. Robb handed him a tall mug filled with tea, and a slice of lemon.

“Again?”

Theon nodded, weakly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. - Robb asked of him, gently placing his hand over Theon’s, courting his knuckles – We will find a nice therapist, I promise. In the meantime, you can speak to me.”

Theon’s jaw trembled and his Adam's apple jolted up.

“I just… it’s getting worse.”

“You mean, they are more frequent?”

“Yeah.”

Robb sucked his lips and started fidgeting slowly, but still made Theon notice he was nervous,“Maybe it just means you are getting closer to allowing yourself to realize things. You feel more comfortable, you feel closer to home, and your mind wants you to face things that have hurt you.”

“...can’t I just forget them?”

“I’m afraid not.”

The words came so heavy out of his mouth, Theon felt like Robb had dropped cement on him.

“What if I don’t want to remember and face?”

Robb’s smile tilted, dull.

“Sadly, if we don’t face things, we… well, it doesn’t mean we are good at burying them, they just stay there, half covered and half out, and we keep tripping over them.”

Theon’s glance ran away, trying to escape being read.

“So, - Robb proceeded – Not facing things is not less painful in the long run. It’s just a lot of tripping instead of one big lifting the gauze and disinfecting the wound.”

Theon licked his lips and bit them, tense.

“That’s not really inviting.”

“My bad. - Robb nodded, jokingly tender – I will try to find a better way of advertising it.”

“You should… - Theon whispered, forcing out a smile – And you should also go to see your other patients.”

“I can stay with you, if you want.”

“Nah. - Theon snorted, trying really hard to seem amused and strong and safe – The dead birds and I will have a great time.”

“Please, just do not turn this into a hotel and try to seduce young fugitive girls.”

“I also promise I’m not going to dress like my dead mother.”

“Now that’s a relief.”, Robb laughed.

Theon sucked his lips wet, he lowered his gaze and then raised it again, nailing his mesmerizing eyes onto Robb’s. They gleamed.

“You make me feel safe.”

Robb blinked. Then his eyes softened and his lips quivered.

“...do I?”

“Yes. - Theon promised, moving his hands to hold his tight – Yes, you do. - a little, shy smile came to his lips, but Theon buried it under a smug, cocky grin quickly – But you have to go to work now, and I have to nap a bit more before going to Jaime.”

“Jaime? Y… your boss is Jaime?”

Theon frowned, “You know him?”

Robb bit his bottom lip, “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. - Theon cocked a brow up, perplexed – He is my boss, he is nice, funny. Black sense of humour, but doesn’t make fun of how I walk. - a pause, he tried to read the other’s eyes – Ex patient?”

“Something like that...”

“As in?”

“Something like that! - Robb repeated, moving away, standing up, scratching his nape – Never paid me, but… he has stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Baggage.”

“We all have it. I have it, you have it, everyone. - Theon frowned, confused – Why is he different?”

“He isn’t. - Robb concluded, swallowing down dryly, then shivered – I, I’m just… two people with difficulties, together, may enable one another, instead of moving forward, that’s all.”

“And how would he enable me? - Theon scoffed – By letting me clean the glasses?”

“I suppose I’m worrying too much. - Robb agreed, but his eyes were still avoiding Theon’s stare – I’m sorry.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. - Robb shrugged – As a person.”

“How do you know if you’ve never loved? - Theon asked, with an amused smirk – It’s not something you know until you actually care about someone so much you don’t want to lose them.”

Robb stiffened.

He seemed surprised, even irritated, but not angry.

“I’m not jealous!”, he blurted out, whining.

And it sounded so childish and outraged, that Theon couldn’t help but choke a laugh.

“Oh, god, you _are_ jealous.”

Robb went red to the ears, “You wouldn’t… find him attractive, would you?”

“Jaime? - Theon laughed, almost wheezing – He’s not my type, he’s too… girly.”

Robb seemed to calm down and nodded to himself, “Good.”

A pause.

Theon’s lips curled up.

“Not that I was jealous, but it’s still good.”

“Absolutely.”, Theon granted, half-smirking.

_I love him._

_I love him so much._

_So much it makes me sick with a migraine of light._

Robb coughed, clearing his throat, and his voice came out all low and mixed with darkness. “Then, hm, work is going fine, right?”

“Yes. - Theon smiled, sipping his tea – I want to save up a bit, so I can move from Asha… she seems to have someone she’s fond of. I don’t want to intrude.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t see it like that. - Robb granted, as if he knew anything about it, then gulped down his black coffee – But if you decide to interrupt working to study, you can always come here.”

Theon almost got strangled by his own silence and choked.

“ _To live live?_ ”

“Well, not to die, hopefully.”

_Is he serious? I want to. But that’s big, a huge deal. I want to. He’ll notice. He’ll see how I really am. I want to. He’ll leave me._

_I can’t._

_I’m afraid. I want to._

“I’m still not sure about college. - Theon mumbled, dribbling as he could – I like it, and I wouldn’t have to pay, but… it’s a lot.”

“You’re smart. - Robb promised, caressing the veins of his hand – You can do it.”

“Thank you...”, Theon replied, weakly.

Robb put away his emptied mug and fixed his tie, “Tonight is a full moon, by the way. - he half hummed – Maybe we could stargaze a bit.”

Theon frowned.

It sounded so romantic. And it scared him.

“Yes, why not...”

_The full moon is a cancer. It tears us all apart with romanticism._

_It feeds us dreams, it makes us cannibals._

_I’d rather enjoy you in an expectation-less, sky-less bed._

“Perfect. - Robb bowed closer to Theon and kissed his forehead, before putting on his jacket – Then, I’ll be back, you, me and a bottle of red wine.”

Theon snorted, “Just make sure to come back with enough energy.”

Robb faked offence and smirked, “I see you value all of my many talents and not just one.”

“Well, one… - Theon grinned, smug – Is my personal favourite.”

“Oh, I wonder which...”

Theon rolled his eyes back and his lips smirked wider, cockier, naughtier, wickeder.

“Hm, clearly you’re very pure heart.”

“Clearly.”, Robb mocked, lowering himself and catching Theon’s mouth in his own.

_I love him._

_Please, don’t let him see how I am._

 

48\. JAIME

 

Jaime groaned, blinking, trying to focus.

The earth twisted under his feet often lately, he found himself wondering when happiness would be stripped away from him.

He couldn’t feel calm or hopeful.

The simple prospect of not being deprived of joy again seemed unrealistic and foolish.

He stared at her and knew she was too much for him.

_You belong to me. We’re two halves of the same moon. That’s a romantic way of saying you don’t see me as my own person. You’re so dramatic. Please, don’t go. I’m marrying, you should too. I can’t, I love you. I love you too, but don’t be an idiot, it’s what’s expected._

_We’re two halves of the same._

_Come into me, let’s make a baby, you and me. Can I hold him? Don’t say so, what if Robert guesses? Don’t touch him._

_I didn’t want to do it! I didn’t! You forced me! Forced you, really? You seemed pretty convinced at the end, pumping into me like a dog in heat. You should have stopped before! What a pussy you are._

_I don’t want another kid with you, you don’t even let me see them._

_Then you’ll never see me again either._

_Fine!_

… _wait. Wait. Cersei, please, please, forgive me, please. Fine, I will. Though you were terrible. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I love you. Me too._

_I hurt you. You hurt me._

_We tore each other apart so well. There was such a melody in the way we destroyed each other._

_And it was hard to stop the work of art that was the pain we put each other through._

_I want to go. I hate you._

_You can’t hate yourself. You’re me._

_What if I hate myself too?_

_I told you to stop, I told you to stop. I came into you, is that all you wanted from me? The spill you missed? The drops you hadn’t been blessed with?_

_The yellow brick road led me to your emerald eyes._

_They were poison._

_They were goo._

_The yellow brick road, embroidered and embroiled with your golden hair – embellished and soaked with your wet moans, led me to you. You led me away from myself._

_She’s different. Brienne is good, Brienne is blue, Brienne is whole._

_But I’m broken and unworthy of her._

_I’m afraid she’ll notice the way I limp through life and set me aside._

_I avoided that war – I crawled in my privilege, in my money, in my father’s help, I stood by and let innocent men like that boy lose piece after piece after piece until they probably wondered if anything was left of them except a surface of skin to hold them in place._

_I allowed them to go alone._

_And I allowed my father and all like him to get away with it without risking their own flesh and blood._

_And I allowed the slaughter by sitting by._

_How much do I dirty Brienne by sitting next to her, being like this? By touching her with a hand that was never dirty with gunpowder? By fucking her while moving my hips so smoothly and naturally, because I have both my legs to give me equilibrium?_

_How much do I dirty her by existing near her and not being the best man I can be?_

His eyes went to his hands, as they trembled.

He remembered caressing Brienne’s cheek in the morning with that hand.

He remembered Theon’s missing fingers.

_Hey lady, you got the love I need… maybe more than enough. Oh, darling... walk a while with me. You've got so much…_

If the kid was still seeing shit, if he was still haunted by things, separating him from Robb would have just hurt him. And yet he felt he needed to do more.

Jaime looked at the landline.

He could have called dad, but he was not ready to …

His fingers moved to compose a different number.

“Tyrion? - his own voice sounded alien to him for a moment – I… yeah, yeah I’m fine. Yes, yes, I’ll… look, I called to ask a favour.”

 

49\. ROBB

 

“And since when are you having these dreams, Dacey?”

The woman breathed in, closing her eyes.

“Last week. - she admitted, fidgeting – I keep feeling like I’m forgetting something, and then I wake up. But they keep coming back.”

Robb nodded, scribbling on his notes.

Dacey looked at his hand.

“My mother says I should marry.”

“And you don’t agree?”

She sucked her lips, “She never did. She was proud and did it all on her own. - Dacey clenched her arms – That’s why I don’t get why she needs to put pressure on me for it.”

“Hm. – Robb’s eyes flickered – But do you feel a need for that emotional bond, or rather, do you feel your mother may think you do?”

“I think she’s just afraid if I’m alone, I’ll try to do it again.”

Robb’s pen stopped, leaving a big, fat drop of opaque blue ink on the page.

“I’m going to need you to say it out loud, Dacey.”

She groaned, sighing. Her eyelids tickled, “She thinks I’ll kill myself.”

“And do you plan to?”

“No.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Yes. - Dacey answered, stiff – I did.”

Robb lowered his eyes, not looking at her.

“Go on.”

“… it seems, like, unfair to ask that of me? - she let out, relaxing her shoulders finally, her voice choking on itself – How can I promise I won’t feel like that ever again? And should I really worry about her and the effect it has on her? - her voice rose, sharper – She should ask me to promise her if I feel bad, I’ll call her, she should offer me harbour, not a muzzle.”

Robb nodded, proud, “Continue.”

“I mean, I’m not asking for her support, I’m not asking her to actively do anything, but this pretension and demand for me to be well because of her! My feelings matter on their own, for fucks sake, I shouldn’t have to be rushed to put my life together so she doesn’t worry about me dying! I’d be the one to fucking die, not her!”

Robb tried not to smile.

He just nodded profoundly again.

“Good, you’re separating yourself from her requests.”

“I… suppose.”

“It’s a step forward.”

“Is it? - Dacey frowned – I feel almost selfish, thinking like this.”

“Selfishness is essential for some sense of self. We cannot live to serve others, or as support to others’ development. - he explained, taking off his glasses – We need to take care of ourselves.”

Dacey let out a spiked chuckle.

“Is this why your wedding ring has disappeared?”

Robb gulped.

“I am not the patient here.”

“I know, I know… - she mumbled, raising her eyebrows – It’s just funny how more honest you sound today, than any other day you spoke about self-love.”

“Sometimes we need to take our own advice...”, Robb said, more to himself than her.

Dacey let out a sound between a choked laugh and an amused sob.

“If you have problems with that, imagine your patients...”

Robb fixed his glasses and let out a well-mannered, yet cold smile, “For now, the only homework you have to do is living and not hurting yourself. The rest will come with time.”

“That sounds like a promise you cannot make me.”

“I know you enough.”, he lied, hoping for her to accept it.

She smiled all the same and Robb decided that was enough. She was fine and something had come to his mind, haunting it.

“So… next Monday? Five?”

Dacey nodded, her eyes widening as she saw Robb actually nervous, vulnerable, as she had not seen him before.

She wondered if that’s how bruises look without skin to turn them into bloomed watercolours on flesh canvas.

Bloody and dark and showing the ache.

He barely noticed her money slipping on the desk, and he signed her new sedative recipe so quickly, she was afraid for a moment the pen will jump from his hand and squirt ink all over the table.

“Thank you.”, she said, only to receive a hurried, hasty nod as an answer.

Robb looked through his papers, rushing with rivers of worry flooding his skull up to the brink and pulling him open. He was sure he had her landline number somewhere …

He found Theon’s dossier and scrambled through the pages nervously, sure it had to be there.

There.

“Asha Greyjoy? - he smiled, inevitably, hearing her voice again – I’m Robb Stark, we talked about Theon, I’m his therapist currently for his stress disorder.”

He heard her turning the attention to maximum.

He swallowed.

“I know this lies well outside and beyond my duties, but… - he bit his inner cheek, forcing himself to push forward – Theon spoke about a person in particular between his torturers. - a pause – A certain Ramsay. The name sounds English, so I was wondering if you knew if he talked to the army about him or if they already identified the man. Could you look into it?”

He clenched his hand.

His knuckles popped white.

“Yes, I’m supposing it’s a traitor we’re speaking about.”

_And I want Theon to know he’ll never hurt him again._

_Ever._

 

50\. BRIENNE

 

Brienne had spent the night before worried sick about Asha, which was, while not totally unusual, not enough of a habit for her to manage to sleep through it soundly.

Her and Asha always worried for each other. She had been the sister she didn’t get to have, but without any order of birth dynamic they ended up guarding each other protectively, and yet each of them still being the reckless one at times.

It made sense only to them, how they could be both, but they managed.

And it fit.

But Brienne had seen Asha collapse from a bullet, just to avoid it scratching Jeyne, in front of her eyes, and guilt hadn’t left her since.

_If I had stepped in, if I had done a better job, if I hadn’t let Little Finger take notice of me talking to Jeyne outside the whorehouse, if I hadn’t put Jeyne in danger, if I if I if I._

_Ifs._

_They always fuck you from the back of your mind._

They ran through her head all night like the siren warning of an approaching train.

It rushed and screamed and metal shrieked through her brain.

Jaime held her through the last two hours before her alarm went off, he was shorter than her and his breath tickling her neck felt uncomfortable, and yet it was sweet.

He snored in her ear.

She liked that too, a bit.

_He’s perfect._

_In that imperfect kind of way._

_He’s spoiled and arrogant and harsh. And sweet._

_And protective. And in need of protection._

_He’s becoming a little piece of home too. When he’s not there, it always seems empty._

_I’m still afraid he’ll just leave one day… but… he stays._

_Every morning he is there._

… _I’m so lucky he didn’t go into that fucking butchering war._

“Tarth!”

Brienne jumped up, startled, and walked up to her boss, “Yes, sir?”

Inspector Selmy gave her a less strict, more fatherly look, and showed her a small, shy smile.

“The boss wants to speak to you about Greyjoy, come into my office.”

Brienne nodded weakly.

_Please, please, make it that they don’t fire her._

_I don’t know what she’ll do._

As soon as she entered through the door, Inspector Barristan Selmy closed it behind her, urgently and just falsifying some calm, he pointed her to the chair in front of his.

Brienne gulped again before sitting, still feeling all her nerves turn into violin strings, pulling her up, thunderstruck by tension. Sitting at Selmy’s desk was Gerold Hightower.

He would never come in the precinct, if not due to a most urgent matter.

“How can I help you, sir?”

His voice sounded dry.

It didn’t echo, it didn’t bounce. It just sank in the air and penetrated it, wetly and greenly.

“Greyjoy asked us for private info regarding an element today. - his eyes rose and looked at her, gleaming in a low anger of embers – Ramsay, or so she called him. She said there was supposedly an American spy in a Vietnamese camp, to her knowledge a torturer and who… well. You know about her brother.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, you know how I feel about vietcongs. - he said briefly – I’m a patriotic man.”

_And a man of your time._

_By which I mean racist._

“And the idea of a spy… going to the communists. That’s big stuff.”

“Of course.”

He proceeded, breathing in, “So, I contacted Jon Connington, at the department of defence.”

_Where is he going?_

_This is bad. Asha, what have you done?_

“He said the only Ramsay ever sent to Vietnam was the son of senator Roose Bolton, who was killed in action on his first day on the field.”

Brienne stiffened.

“I’m sure, sir, that agent Greyjoy meant no disrespect. - she swallowed, closed her eyes, prayed, her throat clenching tight – She probably just followed what her brother said.”

“If her brother went cuckoo in the war, she should still be able to differentiate between her wishful thinking and the truth.”

Inspector Selmy coughed loudly, clearing his throat as to correct himself without disrespect.

Gerold Hightower nodded, unconvinced and unwilling.

“We understand some… of our men, even among those who fought greatly are, more than heroes, loonies with their fragile minds shaken by war. - he said, as diplomatically as he could, and Selmy’s nose twitched in disgust, while Brienne wished she could puke in his mouth – The military is not for the weak, after all. But this doesn’t justify agent Greyjoy’s daring request.”

Barristan Selmy took over, with his calmest, soft lilac, gentle voice.

“We need to know of her mental state. - he explained, looking at Brienne without harm – Has she ever seemed to you like she was ...”

“Disturbed.”, Hightower cut in.

Brienne forced herself not to look at Hightower, she couldn’t have hidden the disgust, and instead she just paused, breathed in the cold air and whispered, looking at Selmy’s eyes, “Greyjoy has always been the best of cops. - she explained – I’m sure this is just a case, due to her brother’s state.”

Hightower groaned, “That’s what we get for hiring women.”

Selmy’s glance jolted, liquid angry flame, between them two, as a glare on Hightower and then as a gleam on Brienne.

 


End file.
